


Memories From Home

by Bethann, Minniemoggie



Series: Legendary Friendship [16]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Illustrated, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-07 00:52:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1878810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethann/pseuds/Bethann, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minniemoggie/pseuds/Minniemoggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Among the packages that were aboard the ship to Valinor were some surprising gifts from home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the explanation of our A/U at the beginning of this series to understand our universe better!  
> If you read and enjoy this, please take a moment to drop us a line! If you have a storyline you'd like to see in our universe, let us know that as well, and perhaps we can make it happen! 
> 
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> 
> New members are always welcome!

Finally all is quiet, our friends have departed, and Gimli and I sit in what will be our sitting room until the rest of the house is built, each of us relishing the peace and the knowledge that we have finally moved into our home on Tol Eressëa  
I can hear someone singing softly in the hallway and I recognize that it is one of the elves who have come to work here in the house. Over the last few weeks Gimli and I have to come to know those who offered their services to us and our gratitude increases with each day. We now have grooms for the stables, kitchen staff, maids and a relative of Master Edelharn’s who is to act as our seneschal.  
Gimli was very anxious to find someone who would organize the household and as he called it ‘keep the hordes away from the doors’, for we have far too much to do to keep being interrupted by elves who are just coming here to assuage their curiosity. If he is anything like his cousin, Fimbrethil will have no difficulty in soon deciding who we will ‘be available for’ and those who he can just refuse entrance. Fimbrethil is tall and stately. He seems incapable of being fazed by anything yet he also has a quite wicked sense of humor and a passion for all of the new-fangled additions that Gimli has already introduced or intends to add to our home. He and Gimli get on very well which is a bonus for all of us.  
I stretch and give a sigh of relief for being at ease and contented. A fire is blazing merrily in the fireplace, Gimli is smoking his pipe he has a mug of ale and I a goblet of wine. We have been fed. We ate in the kitchen much to the horror of Fimbrethil and Mistress Glasiel our chief housekeeper. I smirk at the memory of his face when we strolled in to the warm kitchens and sat down at the scrubbed table and pronounced we would eat with the staff to save them unnecessary work. Somehow I doubt we will be able to repeat the experience, although we might get away with breaking our fast there in the mornings. For now we are warm and comfortable and finally able to relax.  
It has been quite a day and for much of it Gimli and I have been barred from our new home. Reduced to spying at the goings on from the hillside-all with the best of intentions of course- for our late hosts and those that care about us wished to put the final touches to the inside of the wing we will be inhabiting. Nevertheless it was frustrating so that eventually we left New Imladris and rode to the lip of the valley where we could descry the comings and goings beneath us. But then just a few hours ago, Ressor came to invite us inside for all the final preparations had been made and our home was ready for us.  
As we arrived at what will pass, as our main entrance until the rest of the house is completed, light seemed to flood out into the late winter afternoon. Perhaps it was that after the half-light I had become accustomed to outside but it seemed to me that the light within the house was far stronger than could have been anticipated almost as if the Valar themselves were illuminating our path.  
I know I faltered on the threshold and it was only due to Gimli’s hand on my elbow and his words of encouragement that I felt able to make that final step into a new life.

We were immediately surrounded by friends, staff and those who have helped us build this new house all wishing us well. Waiting for us were Lord Elrond, Lady Celebrian, Lady Galadriel, Lord Erestor, Master Edelharn, and young Tàras among many others who have supported us since we came to the Lonely Isle.  
I was very much moved by this support, as was Gimli although he managed to hide his emotions more easily than I.  
Our friends had achieved much in our temporary absence. Where before there had been beautiful but empty rooms, now there were furnishings. The stone floors were covered in thick rugs, the paneled walls were hung with tapestries and paintings.  
The furniture, some of which I have made, has been polished to perfection. It gleams in the firelight, and offers us comfort and a sense of stability giving us some continuity between our old home and this new place.  
As we moved from room to room we found more and more treasures that had obviously been in storage somewhere on the island but which had also quite obviously come from our old homes on Arda. There were cases of books and scrolls, everything you could think of that would turn this new house into a place we could call home.  
I was quite overwhelmed by it all; and all the time, thought and care that had been expended on our behalf. Lord Elrond told us there is much more to be transported here, chests and boxes that have been sent by those who loved us and who wish us well. Tomorrow we will probably begin to investigate those few chests that are already in situ here.  
There is no rush. As Erestor said, we have the whole of the winter to explore all of the largesse that have been gifted to us, for the weather will mean that there will be little progress in building no matter how much we would like it to be otherwise.  
For now I am happy to relax in the company of the one who means more to me than any other. Gimli is dozing. The warmth of the fire, the good food and ale have combined to bring him to a point where he should probably seek his bed. But I know he like me is relishing this time, our first evening in our home and does not yet wish to break the spell that holds us here staring down into the fire and savoring all we have achieved in the months since our arrival on the lonely isle.  
I gaze into the fire and conjure up images of other evenings we have spent together, spring nights in Erebor, and Eryn Lasgalen with our parents and close family. The autumn Gimli and I spent with our Hobbit friends in the Shire. Long summer evenings in Ithilien with my colony and Faramir, Eowyn and their children, days in the caves behind Helms Deep and winters spent with Aragorn in Minas Tirith. Through the flames I seem to see their faces, some still back on Arda, others now beyond the veil of this world. Yet all seem to be smiling and appear to approve of the place I must now come to see as my home. I feel as if I only have to reach out and I would be able to touch my friends to speak to them to be with them again if only for a short while.

“Lamb?”  
I shake myself free of my thoughts with some difficulty and manage a somewhat shaky smile, “My apologies, elvellon, I was far away, I am afraid.”

Gimli looks at me with those oh so knowing eyes of his.

“We canna go back lad.”

Simple words but very true.

“I know and I am grateful for all we have here, but sometimes it is hard to think that we are severed from so many we loved and cared about.”

“Come,” he pats the side of his chair and I go immediately to him, sinking down on the rug at his feet and lean against his side as his hand comes up to run over my hair in a gesture that I think gives him as much comfort as it does me. Gimli gives me some time to become calm, before he speaks again, then his rumbling, deep voice fills my ears and offers solace to my heart.

“We may be physically separated from some of those we love, lamb, but as long as we keep them in our hearts they will always be close to us. Those who have gone before us have lived their lives most of them with a great deal of happiness as well as their share of sorrows and they would want, nay demand of us is that we go on to make the most of our lives here, because in doing so we honor them and their memory.”

I heave another sigh and allow myself to relax against him. His wisdom is so profound and I have never believed that others recognized that fact as much as they should. They only seemed to see the outer exterior, the gruff, rough warrior but Gimli is so much more than that. He is proud quite rightly so of his heritage. Like all of his kind he is hardy much more so than other mortal kind. Folk are aware of his strength and endurance in battle but it is the way he lends his strength to others that marks him as so special. He has a deep sense of right and wrong, a great belief in the power of the light being able to overcome darkness and evil.

Like most of his race he does not give his loyalty or love easily but once it is given he will lay down his life for those he cares for without a second thought and with little regret. He is in all ways an excellent creature and I am proud to have him as my friend.

And now he is here once again offering me his immense strength as I struggle with changes in my life, keeping me grounded, encouraging me to look forward rather than back. Whatever would I do without him?

“Ye will not have to find that out for a good long time, Lamb.”

Gimli seems to be able to second-guess my every thought and I am happy that he can.

“And we have plenty here to keep us occupied, even with the winter setting in. I doubt we will find time to be bored or to brood too much. For now,” he searches my face with his dark eyes seeing my weariness, “I think it is time we went to bed. Tomorrow we will need to make decisions on what to do with all those wagonloads of furniture and furnishings that are still waiting to be unloaded. Where they all came from I would not like to guess. Certainly folk have been very kind to us. Erestor told me there are at least seven more wains waiting to come up from New Imladris. Where we are to put it all I do not know. Still that is a problem for tomorrow. Come lad, it’s time we tried out those new beds that have been prepared for us.”

I allow him to pull me to my feet. I bank the fire, as Gimli douses the lamps and we make our way out into the hallway and then up the staircase to the top floor of our house where our bedchambers are located next to each other. I am happy that is the case. I have become accustomed to hearing his sonorous snores close at hand and rather than preventing me from sleeping it actually allows me to find peaceful rest for it means Gimli is near and I am not alone.  
I insist that we go to Gimli’s chamber first, and I am happy to see that furniture of the correct size and comfort has been supplied. When I last saw this chamber it was swept clean of wood shavings and the paneling was all in place but other than that it was empty. Now, a fire burns in the fireplace, thick rugs cover the wooden floors, a pair of comfortable chairs sit on either side of the fireplace. Clothes presses and cupboards line the walls. Thick drapes conceal the windows and in the center of the room is a large canopied bed. The colours on the bed and at the windows are russet red while the deep brown of the wood and the lighter brown of the woven rugs gives it a rich gleam very alike to the colour of Gimli’s best armour. I glance across at Gimli and see he is impressed at what has been done to provide for his comfort, but all he says is “Not bad. I’m sure I can soon make it livable.” Then he laughs loudly and demands to see what my room looks like.

There is a connecting door, which leads into a dressing room so we do not have to go out into the hallway. There is little in here save several banded chests that by the look of them are all still waiting to be opened.

I am eager to see how my chamber has been prepared so spare the chests only a casual glance, although Gimli seems more interested and I am sure I hear him mutter. “Ah so that is where they put them.” before he urges me on into my new bedchamber.

My eyes widen at the sight that greets me. Like Gimli’s my room has been transformed. Furnishings that could only have come direct from Imladris itself grace the chamber, rugs and draperies, decorated with gold make the room shimmer in the light of many candles. But it is the bed that attracts my attention for it has been made in the shape of a curled green leaf. My eyes widen and beside me Gimli begins to chortle, “Well now lad that is quite a sight.”

 

“I am not sleeping in that!”

“Well I admit it is a little more ornate than we are accustomed to, and it might be an idea to change it when we get a chance, but for tonight it will have to do. Get ye to bed, lamb. A Greenleaf sleeping in a green leaf…I will be in to wish ye a goodnight in a short while.”

He backs out still chuckling and leaves me glaring at the bed in growing disgust.

Despite my distaste I am tired and the promise of a good night’s rest is tempting, even in the ridiculous bed I have had foisted upon me. I will have to ask Ressor whose idea this was. I do as Gimli orders and ready myself for bed. Slipping between the sheets with a grimace, I find that someone has taken the time to warm the sheets for me. I decide that sleep is more important than pride.

Gimli arrives and tells me that my new bed suits me very well, then he leans in and kisses my brow wishing me pleasant dreams and to my surprise my dreams are indeed happy. Perhaps this is a good omen for our new home.

Our first full day in Car Annûn, as we have taken to calling it, is a busy one. More furniture  
arrives even while we are still breaking our fast, plus there are stores and foodstuffs for the house and stables. When I mention the apparent unseemly haste, Fimbrethil tells us that if the snow continues to fall over the next few days as it is this morning we could find ourselves cut off for a week or so.

“No doubt Lord Erestor has thought of such a contingency and sent everything we may need just in case.” He adds.

I share a smile with Gimli. It seems that Fimbrethil is very impressed by Lord Erestor’s organizational abilities, and why should he not be? Ressor has run Elrond’s affairs for over three ages and not even incursions by Orc or the Nazgul lord himself has ever managed to catch him unprepared.  
So we all help unload and carry supplies and boxes into the cellars and kitchens while the grooms ensure that feed and bedding for the horses and stock animals are properly stored as well.  
Once that is done there is time to begin to open packing crates and boxes, from which emerges all the paraphernalia needed for the smooth running of an elven or dwarven household. The amount of stuff is amazing yet our staff seem to know where it all should go and how it should be displayed or stored so Gimli and I are reduced to carrying boxes and trunks in from the stable yard as wain after wain arrives, is unloaded and then departs again.  
Once we get down to linens and still room produce I decide it is time for Gimli and I to retire to our office on the first floor, where we spend time poring over the plans for the main house itself.

We dine, in a ‘proper’ dining hall in isolated splendor, although we insist that will eat first meal and our noontime repast in the kitchens with the staff-we do not wish for too much formality unless it is needful- and then return to the sitting room so Gimli may enjoy his pipe.  
To my surprise I find one of the trunks I saw last evening in the dressing room has been placed by Gimli’s chair. When I examine it I find it is securely locked and sealed, when I remark on this to Gimli merely raises a bushy eyebrow at me and says “really?”

I see now that he knows far more about these mystery trunks than I do and that he has no intention of telling me what they contain until he is ready to do so.  
Despite my pressing him for answers or mayhap because of them; he makes me wait for an explanation until he has finished his first tankard of ale.  
I roll my eyes as he puts down his empty tankard very slowly and then spends moments aligning it with the edge of the table it stands on.

He chuckles at my growing frustration and finally fishes out a key from a pouch at his waist.

“Here! Ye are like a dwarfling on Yule morning,” he teases as he hands over the key and bids me open the lock “where is all that elven restraint and control gone to?”

“I lost it when I first began to associate with the most irritating Naugrim ever brought to life by Lord Aûle.” I respond, sticking out my tongue at him. He retaliates by flicking my ear as I bend down to open the lid of the chest.

As it swings backwards I see that the trunk is made up of several layers and within them are various parcels, packages as well as parchments and other items. At the very top is a letter addressed to me, I recognise the hand immediately for it is my Ada’s.

My fingers tremble as I break the seal and begin to read.

xxxx

 

There are many pleasant ways to spend an evening and I have been involved in all types. For instance, storytelling comes to mind. Many nights I have spent in my life listening to my father spin a yarn or telling tales myself, the drama of the tale growing in proportion to the amount of ale consumed. Loud revelries with song and dance lasting well into the night are another fine way to end a day. My people are famous for such things and I have enjoyed my share of them, though a quieter evening is usually my preference. Among such activities are quiet conversations, reading by lamplight, or even going outside to admire the stars, thanks to my long association with elven-kind. But by far my favorite way to close the day is as I am doing tonight: a roaring fire, a pipe and tankard, and my own dear elfling for company. There is no other I would prefer to be with and no other way I would rather spend my time.

I watch him now as he stretches and sighs before the fire, lifting his glass to admire the ruby hue of the wine in it before setting it down without drinking. He is weary. I always know for I can see it in his face before he even realizes it himself. It has become my habit to watch for such things especially over the last ten few years or so since he became so debilitated by sea longing and in the months since we’ve been here in this blessed realm. I have been concerned over his health and therefore been extra diligent in making certain his needs are cared for and he doesn’t become too run down. In the beginning it was a real struggle, but now things have improved, though I have not decreased my watchfulness and likely will not for some time. The child is placed in my hands and I must never falter in my duty to him. I have worried a great deal over him and with good cause, but tonight my concern is minimal, for his tiredness has not to do with failing health, but with genuine hard work and a very, very long day. I am about to send him to bed and head there myself, but I am loathe to end the evening so soon. For though this was a long day, it was a satisfying and happy one, for tonight we will sleep for the first time under the roof of our new home.

We are a long way from being finished with the house, but the west wing is completed and so we have managed to move in with a great deal of help from friends and neighbors. And just in time too, for I can see hear the muffled sound of snow hitting the sitting room window. We will not want for anything, however, no matter how deep the snow gets, for our friends have seen to that. The wains that have already brought in furnishings and supplies seem enough to last us through several seasons and Erestor tells us there are many more meant to come tomorrow. What we are to do with it all remains to be seen, but we will certainly be well provided for. The only worries niggling at my mind now, are the banded trunks that I have managed to protect until today. They were given to me for safekeeping by King Thranduil, and I have carried the key with me since the moving began in order to make sure it didn’t get lost in the tumult of the event. So the key I have safe. It is the trunks themselves that I have lost track of. I saw them safely on the wains that were coming today so that means they are here somewhere. I only hope I can find them before Legolas does and manages to pick the lock without the key, for I would not like him to be alone when he opens them. There are treasures in those trunks that he will be thrilled to see I am sure, and yet the memories they will stir might be hard to process for it will remind him of those who have been left behind.

When the trunks were entrusted to me, King Thranduil asked me to bring them out when I felt the time was right. I sit back and close my eyes now and recall the day they were given to me.

It was the last time we were ever in Eryn Lasgalen, a time that will be burned into my memory forever, for we had come to say our farewells. I had already bid what was left of my own family goodbye and while I would miss them, a nephew is not a father and my days in Middle Earth were numbered anyway. At that time I felt I had already lived my life and knew it was only a matter of a few short years at most before I would finish my life course and join my ancestors in the Halls of my forbears. My decision to sail to the undying lands was made with the intention of seeing Legolas safely there and hopefully spending a little time getting him settled. Of course I have been promised long life here, but at that time I did not expect that so while leaving my home and family was not easy, it was something I was prepared for and eager to do.

The same was not true for my elfling. While I was leaving to make it easier for him, he was leaving because he had no other choice. It was either sail or be slowly driven mad with sea longing and fade completely. So that last trip to Eryn Lasgalen was the hardest part of saying goodbye, even for me, for seeing Legolas torn away from his father was heart wrenching. In our time there he rarely left his father’s side, not wanting to waste a precious second of their last moments together even in sleep. But eventually it became too much for him and he drifted off for a few hours.

While he slept, the King quietly beckoned me into his private chambers and into a large dressing room where several trunks sat, already locked tight. Only one remained open. In this one he placed several items that had obviously been prepared to be packed inside. As he placed each item in one by one, he explained the significance to me. There were things that had belonged to his queen. Legolas’ only memories of her were contained in items that she had held and used herself, so Thranduil wished them to go with us to help keep her alive in his son’s mind. Next he placed some childhood mementos: a tiny bow with blunt arrows, some books with colored illustrations, a stuffed toy that had been loved until it was one-eyed and naked and I could no longer tell what it was meant to be. I could see it cost him to add the furless thing to the trunk for he held it to his face for a moment sniffing in the scent of the child who once carried it everywhere by the looks of it. But after a moment he wiped his eyes on it and bravely, but gently tucked in into the trunk. Last he placed a thick letter on top and closed the lid. He locked the trunk securely and then turned to me with the key.

“I will send them out ahead of you so that they can be placed aboard your ship before you arrive, He told me as he pressed the key into my palm. “There is no other that loves my son better than you, my friend. I trust you will know when the right time to open them is.”

Until now I have felt it better to wait. When we first arrived on the Island, Legolas was too physically fragile to endure something so emotional and his homesickness was almost overwhelming. I feared that such a strong reminder of home might be too much at the time. A broken heart can be as deadly as a festering wound for him and I feared for his health. Since then, the time has never seemed right for we have been busy with one thing after another with working on the new house. But now that we have the stability and security of being in our own home and the lad seems almost back to his old self, perhaps now is the time.

I am brought back to the present by a soft sigh and open my eyes to see Legolas staring into the flames looking rather thoughtful and melancholy. I wonder what he is thinking about.

“Lamb?”

He blinks and turns toward me and tries to smile, but it is a failed attempt. Sometimes he wonders how I seem to read his thoughts, but his expression is like a book. I have seen that look often enough to know he is thinking of the past and of the friends and family who are no longer with us. I invite him over to sit next to me and I stroke his hair as we talk about the many reasons we have to be happy and how we must look to the future with hope. He knows this is so as well as I do, but he finds it harder to remember at times so it is up to me to keep reminding him as often as necessary. I remind him of all we have to keep us occupied, even through the winter months and with that promising thought, we take ourselves to the second floor to see the bedchambers that have been kindly furnished for us by our friends.

I am pleased with how my bedchamber has been turned out. Someone put a lot of thought in choosing the décor and I am looking forward to sleeping in such an attractive place. We have been very lucky in our friends here.

We go through the dressing room to get to Legolas’ bedchamber. I have designed the rooms to be adjoined so that we do not have to go into the corridor to go back and forth between them. It has become my custom to check in with the lad during the night at times and on occasion he desires to come to me as well when nights have been difficult because of night terrors or other reasons that make it hard to sleep. I know pride would prevent him doing so if he felt others would find out about it and I would like us to be free to continue such things without alerting the entire household.

The dressing room is spacious and has already been filled with personal items and lined up in one corner are the trunks I have been looking for! It is a relief to find them. How someone knew where to put them is anyone’s guess, but I am thankful they are safe. Legolas glances at them, but I urge him into the bedchamber before he can think to start asking questions for it is far too late to get into them tonight.

When I follow him into the room I cannot help laughing at his dismayed expression as he gapes at what someone has deemed a suitable bed for someone of his royal status. It is ornate green and gold and shaped like an elegant leaf and is extravagantly beautiful in its own gaudy way. The artisan who lovingly designed it, no doubt did so with Legolas’ striking good looks in mind, for he is considered fair of face even among his own kind. The beauty of the bed was meant to match the beauty of the owner, but of course my elfling does not see it that way. He only sees a garish piece of furniture that would be more fitting in the bedchamber of a fancifully drawn storybook princess. Still it will have to do for tonight, and so I tell him. He glares at me as I leave the room but by the time I have returned to wish him good night, he is dangerously close to slumber for someone who was sure he’d never be able to sleep in such a bed.

I walk back through the dressing room and kneel down beside the trunk from Eryn Lasgalen and take the key from the pouch and unlock it. The items are just as they were before, with the thick letter written in the King’s elegant hand sitting on top. Is now the right time to open these treasures from home, or will they cause more sorrow than pleasure? King Thranduil said I would know when the time was right, but I believe he overestimated my insightfulness on such matters. I am afraid of the emotions this little trunk will unleash and yet if I wait until there will be no feelings tied to it, it will never happen at all. I close the lid without locking it and step back into Legolas’ bedchamber to see for certain that he is truly asleep, and then I pick up the trunk and quietly take it down the stairs and into the sitting room, placing it on the floor next to my chair.  
I take the key out again and start to lock it back, but on impulse, I open it again instead and rifle among the items inside. Finding the little stuffed creature, I pull it out and stare deep into its one remaining eye as if might be able to tell me if I am doing the right thing.

Rolling my eyes at myself, I shove the thing back inside and quickly close the lid and lock it. I must be starting to go soft in the head from exhaustion and worry to have become so sentimental over a few trinkets and letters. As if an inanimate object could give me advice. Thank goodness no one was around to see my inane, ridiculous actions! Yet as I leave the room, I imagine I can hear a soft voice from inside the trunk asking to be freed from the darkness. I know such a thing is impossible, even crazy, and yet I take this phantom voice from my own imagination as a sign that I am doing the correct thing.

Tomorrow we will begin going through these memories from home.

XXXX


	2. Chapter 2

Memories of Home  
Chapter 2  
Beth & Minnie

“Well open it Lamb” Gimli’s voice recalls my wandering thoughts to the present. I am kneeling in front of an open trunk, with a folded and sealed letter in my hand.  
I know who has written it, for I recognise the hand as easily as I do my own. My Ada has sent me a letter, how or why I am not yet sure. All I know is that just by seeing that familiar strong hand writing on the front of the vellum makes me want to weep.  
“Ada.” I know I am whimpering but I had not expected to ever see this sort of missive ever again.

“How?” I croak, for Gimli obviously knows a deal more about this than I do.

He smiles, “Your father sent it with us lamb. It was in the hold of the Lady Vonild when we left Arda. Why did he send it? Well he wanted you to have something tangible to remind you of home, of your life with him and your family. He knew how you would miss it and was concerned enough to organize this for you.”

I put out a hand to caress the trunk as if by doing so I can bring myself closer to Ada. It is so like my father to have spent time putting together mementoes of my life while he himself was grieving over my departure. I wonder momentarily why Gimli did not tell me about its presence earlier, but I can answer my own question without concerning my friend. I suspect before now that I would not have been able to cope with such memories. Here in our new home I may still find it difficult but not as hard as before and here I have the space to display and enjoy the treasures my Ada has sent me.  
I sit back on my heels and tip my head to one side as I take in just what sits before me.

My ongoing silence and stillness seems to be worrying Gimli.

“Ye are not cross with me because I did not tell you about it sooner are ye lamb?”

I hurry to reassure him, “No, I understand that I was not ready before now. I am not all that certain I am ready even now …” I try and smile but with little success. “Even now my Adar can surprise me it seems.”

“Aye, he is a piece of work that is for sure, but he has only ever had your best interests at heart. I was with him when he placed that letter in there and he locked and handed over the keys to me. He told me I would know when the time would be right for me to open them. I hoped you might think that time was now.”

“I think it might be. Shall we find out if we are right?” I answer, and this time my smile is genuine yet even now it is with reluctance that I break the seal and unfold the parchment then begin to read.

 

 

My beloved child,

When you read this you will I trust be safe in the Undying Lands and free from the torment that has so beset you in the last yen or more.  
The sea longing is both a curse and a blessing to our kind. I know how long and how bravely you fought against it; you must never think that by taking ship as you finally did is a sign of weakness. I know that such a thought was in your head when we parted, my foolish little leaf although you tried to hide it from me. Recall I am your father and I know you very well better than any other save perhaps Gimli Gloinson.  
So my cherished son I tell you to be proud of how long you endured, far longer than any other elf I have known who has been thusly inflicted you have your father’s stubbornness as well as your mother’s spirit.

Know also that always you are in my heart; that you will never be far from my thoughts, and while we may be separated by the Sundering Sea’s yet I hold you close. Trust also that we will one day be reunited; yes my heart we will see each other again and know the joy that such a reunion would bring us both.

For now, I have the felicity of knowing that you are safe, that the curse under which you fought for so long will have been lifted, and that is sufficient. For while I miss you every minute of every day I am not so selfish as to wish you beside me when I know how much pain such a position would cause you.

Rather, I take comfort in knowing while you and I are apart you have someone who loves you as I do close beside you. Long have I known that Gimli Gloinson is as a second father to you, and my heart rejoices in the knowledge that he has been there to offer you his great strength and fortitude as you begin this new phase of your life. Do not spend time in useless regrets, ion nin, rather learn to live and enjoy your life as I have ever tried to teach you to do.

You will no doubt wonder how and why this trunk and the others like it have come to you. I had them sent onboard the Lady Vonild before you sailed, and entrusted the keys to them to Gimli son of Gloin, knowing he would recognise when the time was right for them to be opened.

Do not weep at the contents that are held within these few chests, they are but a small part of our lives together as a father and son, mother and child, king and prince. Remember to the times they recall and be glad for I have sent them to you not just as a remembrance but as a promise that at some time we will be reunited.

You will wonder what is to be found within these trunks. No great treasures some might say, but they are to me and I am certain to you of more importance than gold, mithril or jewels for they are our memories and more precious than any other for that.

It was in the last year of the Lady Vonild’s life that the two of us came up with this gift to you both, for yes it is not only your memories that are commemorated here although Gimli did not know that when he agreed to take them in charge.

I went to see Vonild when I heard from her grandson Greirr that she was in failing health, and we spoke for some time together of what might happen when you took ship. She was sure in her own heart that Gimli would not let you go alone, but as a reassurance for us both I also sent word and spare keys for the chests to Erestor. He has always had a fondness for you and I knew that if Gimli could not be with you he would do his best to care for you on your arrival.

By the time all of the trunks were full, Gimli had made it plain to me he would travel the straight road with you even if he could not set foot there so I hope he will now be beside you as you begin to go through them all.

‘Mam’ would be so pleased to think so. She was anxious that you both had reminders of your past life together here on Arda to sustain you in your first days on Aman. It was such a simple idea and yet so perfect I wonder why I did not think of such a thing myself.

So, know that the inspiration for these mementoes comes from Vonild, and all those who contributed to our memory boxes did so out of love and affection for both of you. You will find all kinds of things here but we all hope and trust that all of them will not only bring a smile or a tear but will remind you of those who love you and are temporarily separated from you both.

We will meet again, all of us at some point in the future I know it. Keep such a thought in your heart during the hard times, and know that our love for you both will endure however long we are divided.

Your loving Ada

Thranduil Oropherion King of Eryn Lasgalen and very fond father of Legolas of Ithilien and friend to Gimli Gloinson named elf friend and second father to my beloved son.

I cannot help the tears that fall as I read and I am happy to feel the strong hand on my shoulder as Gimli gives me his silent support.

“Are they good tears lad?”

My smile is tremulous, “Very good tears elvellon, Ada tells me in the letter that I am not the only one who will find treasures from our past lives in the trunks he sent. He also says the idea came not from him but from Mam.”

“Mam?”

“It seems so. Here read it for yourself,”

I watch as Gimli reads pretending not to see him brush the tears away from his face as he hands the letter back to me.

I lift out the first package and unwrap the silk seeing that it has an embroidered L on it. Looking at the other parcels I find they all have initials on them so we can easily find which is meant for ourselves. I point this out to Gimli and he mutters something about ‘trust an elf to think of that’ but I am distracted from replying when I see what is nestling within the silk in my hands: one of my earliest and most treasured toys, almost bald, with no tail, and only one eye. I still recognize my beloved ‘Rusc.’

“My Nana made him for me,” I tell Gimli, as I run one finger down the back of my fox. “He used to have a wonderful fur brush for a tail but he lost it when we fell down a fox hole together. I was trying to find the rest of his family,” I explain to my wide-eyed friend.

“You fell down a fox hole?”

“I was very young,” I justify myself.

“Now that is a tale that I would welcome hearing.” Gimli chuckles and I roll my eyes at his attempt at a very bad pun on the word tail. He flicks my ear as a prompt and I sit back holding Rusc close and begin my story.

“As I said I was very young, very well,” I amend seeing the twinkle in his dark eyes “I was even younger than I am now. It was the autumn after my Naneth was killed and I was still much traumatized as was Ada and everyone else in the stronghold. I had taken to hiding from those who were in charge of my care often refusing to come when they called for me to show myself so that it had almost become normal for me to be ‘missing’ for at least part of the day.

Usually I was found deeply asleep having wept myself into such a state. I would be picked up and carried back inside, for invariably I would be found somewhere in the garden, even back then I found comfort in the trees and in growing things.

On this particular day I had been sitting in the garden listening to the gardeners talking of preparing the plants for the long winter ahead. They were busy covering some of the more tender flowers with twigs and leaves, to protect them from the cold and talking of the animals who were also making ready to sleep through the winter, so that they would not die from the cold weather. I had Rusc with me of course, I never went anywhere without him for he was the one thing I had that still smelled like my Nana and as I listened to them talk it struck me that I ought to be doing something to protect him else he might die like my Naneth. I thought that if I could find him his own family they would care for him like Nana had done for me.

I knew that foxes lived in holes in the ground, so I went looking for a den intending to introduce Rusc to his wild family and leaving him there through the winter so he would be safe. I fully intended that I would collect him in the spring when we could be together again.

I found a den and called down to see if there were any foxes inside. When I did not hear anything I squirmed further inside, because I thought they might not have heard me. Instead I slipped and fell down into the depths of the hole. The sides of the den were too steep for me to climb out and although I called out there was no one to hear me, for I was in part of the garden far away from the house and a long way from where I should have been playing.  
You can imagine how frightened I was. I was alone in a dark, narrow hole, and no one knew I was missing or where I might be.”

“Eh, lamb, no wonder you do not like dark confined places. How long were ye down there?”

“It seemed like an age, but I suspect it was only an hour or so until I heard voices calling out my name. I shouted as loudly as I could and finally I saw the face of one of my Adar’s warriors peering down into the hole. To get me out he had to wriggle half way in and then he was pulled out backwards with me holding his hands. It was during our rescue that Rusc lost his brush. It caught on a tree root and when we were pulled free it ripped off. I never replaced it; because he would not have been the Rusc that nana had made for me if I had.”

I look down at the well-worn toy in my hands, “I still treasure it, even though in the last years I have kept him hidden away at the bottom of a clothes press. I am surprised Ada knew where to look for him, although I am glad he did.”

“As your father says in his letter, he knows you better than anyone else so of course he would know where such an important part of your child hood was hidden away. Was he angry with ye when you were brought home?”

I shake my head, “No, he was too relieved to have me back safe and sound, so on that occasion at least I escaped what would have been a deserved spanking for going off without telling anyone where and what I was intent on doing. I know he cried, when he first held me in his arms, telling me over and over that I must not leave him and how much he loved me. I was dirty, tired and terrified but I felt safe and loved in his embrace. It was then that think I first realized that Ada needed me as much as I needed him if we were both to survive the loss of my Naneth, and I know it strengthened our bond even more.” I decide to leave that thought for it is too sad for tonight instead I take a breath and continue “So … now you know how Rusc lost his tail. Shall we see what else is in the chest?” I reach forward but Gimli’s hand on my shoulder stays me.

“Nay lad, leave it for now.”

“But Gimli,” I protest, “It is your turn now.”

 

“Aye, but I have been thinking … and I’ll thank you to keep those words that are trembling on your lips to yourself.”

I laugh and obediently keep quiet so he continues.

“We have a long winter ahead of us, and what better way to spend our evenings than by choosing one item a night to rediscover. One item to maybe prompt a story as your fox has done today, or a happy memory or perhaps occasionally a sad one. We may want to share some of our ‘finds’ with our other friends eventually. But to begin with I would like it if it was just the two of us sharing these memories of home. What do you say lamb?”

I can see the sense in his words; it would be foolish indeed to open all of these memories together, for some might not be given their proper due if we did. It is likely that nearly all of the treasures in the chests will have a story or a memory for one or both of us and I would like to share them first with my beloved dwarf.

So I say, “I think it is an excellent plan elvellon, although you had better keep the chests locked else I may well weaken and try and take a peek at what is inside earlier than I should.”

“Ye hadn’a better,” he wags a finger at me, “else I will have something to say about it. Now are ye taking yon Rusc with ye or does he go back in the chest?”

I cradle the toy in my hand, taking in the faint scent of my mother in his fur, “I will keep him with me.” I answer, watching as Gimli locks the chest and deposits the key in his belt pouch. “And tomorrow we will see what we can find for you.”

“I look forward to it,” He chuckles.


	3. Chapter 3

I chuckle and heave a silent sigh of relief as I lock the chest and place the key back into the pouch at my belt. I am pleased that the revealing of the letter and what was inside the trunk seems to have been a happy experience and not a sad one as I had feared it might be. I believe this is the right time after all to explore these treasures and will be a wonderful way to spend the first winter in our new home together. We sit in front of the fire for some time after the chest is locked talking about the effort that had to have been put into such a gift. I am amazed that Lady Vonild was the one to come up with the idea, not because of the idea itself. It was very like her to think of such a thing. What I am surprised about it how did she know?

After the flames burn themselves down to embers we retire upstairs, though I find myself sitting against the plush cushions of a fancy leaf-shaped bed with my elfling’s head in my lap instead of going into my own comfortable bedchamber. It is an entirely unnecessary precaution, of course, to sit with him as he falls asleep, but I will feel better knowing he is resting well and not upset over the emotional events of the day. Absently I run my fingers through his hair as he stretches luxuriously, reminding me of an elegant feline. As he settles in, contentedly preparing to sleep we continue to talk about our evening. Legolas seems perfectly cheerful and unbothered by the letter or the memories it invoked. Admittedly it might be more for my own benefit than for his that I stay, though he hasn’t complained about my presence or attempted to send me away either. Possibly I am more rattled by the shock of hearing something from my mother after so many years of her being absent from my life. Perhaps Legolas feels the same way, for her death was difficult for him as well, so I keep sitting with the Lad, talking quietly about the day because offering him comfort is a comfort to me. In other words he will have to let me fuss over him whether he needs it or not. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind and our discussion fades away, the words getting fewer and farther between. Before long my thoughts begin to wander.

My mind keeps replaying lines from King Thranduil’s letter…

It was in the last year of the Lady Vonild’s life that the two of us came up with this gift to you both, for yes it is not only your memories that are commemorated here although Gimli did not know that when he agreed to take them in charge.

Mam died nearly fifty years before I made the decision to sail into the west. She had no way of knowing, so what made her put so much effort into planning this complicated surprise in the last year of her life? Mam could do a lot of things, but as far as I know she never had the ability to see into the future. Perhaps she consulted a foreteller of events, though that is difficult to believe since she held little stock in such abilities. She viewed such practices with open disdain, so I doubt very much she changed her mind right at the end. One can never tell with Lady Vonild however for she was a conundrum at times. I only hope the contents of the trunk will further explain this mystery. My curiosity is so acute that it is all I can do to wait until tomorrow night to look for the answers.

I notice that Legolas’ eyes have already glazed over in reverie and it is then that I have a very unworthy thought. I remove the key from the pouch at my belt and rub the cool metal between my fingers. It would be the work of a few minutes to go back down and have a quick look through the trunk to see what I can find that might assuage my curiosity a bit. Legolas would never know about it. Yet I know even as I think this that I will not do it, for that would be cheating and I could not live with myself if I were to do so. I firmly push such contemptible thoughts from my mind and place the key back where it belongs, as I look down at my peacefully sleeping charge. I feel a stab of envy for his ability to sleep so soundly, for it is an easy thing to avoid temptation when you cannot get the key! 

I soon ease my way out from under the lad and quietly retreat to my own bed, where I manage to sleep in spite of that cursed key tempting me to go back downstairs. I awake refreshed and with a clear conscience, but my first thought is that I must get through the day before I can see what else is hidden inside the trunk. I laugh at myself because for someone who is supposed to be steady and staid I am as eager as my impatient elfling to get to the surprises inside the locked chests. It will never do for him to know that though, so I school my features and gather my patience around me before I walk sedately to the kitchen to greet the rest of the household. I do have a reputation to uphold after all.

I spend most of the day unpacking crates and sorting through things, taking my time in doing so. The world outside has transformed itself into a wintery scene, the ground and trees covered with a thick layer of glittering snow and the eves hanging with long icicles that sparkle in the sunlight. It is beautiful to look at, but seeing it through the glass is enough for me. I have no desire to be out in it for my tolerance of the cold is not as it once was and I prefer to stay inside where I can enjoy the warmth of the fire. I am not surprised, however when Legolas decides the grooms will be needing help with the horses and takes himself outside to enjoy the cold sunny day. 

It is nearly dark when he returns suspiciously covered in snow as if he’s been wrestling in it. I do not ask what he has been doing, but I cannot help laughing at his disheveled appearance as I admonish him not to drip over the clean floors. He retaliates by shaking his head and letting snow fly over me, earning himself a face full of the thick towels that I have stacked in preparation for storing in the linen cabinets. He laughs and uses the towel first to dry his hair and then to mop the wet floor and then we make preparations to enjoy the evening meal, which I can already smell cooking. 

Finally the time arrives when we have settled into the sitting room. For the sake of propriety, I smoke half a pipe before I fish the key out of my belt pouch and unlock the chest I have been thinking about all day. I pull out the top package meant for me and find something disproportionately heavy for its small size. I carefully remove the silk wrapping and then nearly drop the object in stunned surprise when I see what is inside. I cannot believe my eyes for I never expected to see this again. Behind me I hear a sharp intake of breath.

“Mam’s bonding bracelet!” Legolas gasps. He is as surprised as I am. “But how can it be? We looked everywhere for it.”

Suddenly a long time mystery is solved.

“We couldn’t find it, Lamb, because the whole time we were searching it was safely in residence in Eryn Lasgalen. Your father must have taken it with him when he visited Mam just before she died and they planned this whole thing.”

I turn the bracelet in my hand and admire the workmanship. It is hammered gold and mithril, in a cuff design, custom engraved with runes that represent both the families of my mother and my father. A large square cut ruby sits in the center with smaller round rubies on either side of it. It was made by my father with the help of his own father to give to his bride on their wedding day. He wore a simpler one that she had specially made for him for it is a custom among dwarves to exchange such tokens on the day of their marriage. 

Seeing it now I can imagine Mam just as she was. I have often regretted that there was no likeness of her ever painted, but with the help of this bracelet I can see her as clearly as if she were standing in front of me for I never saw her without it except that last time I ever visited her in Erebor when we knew her life was coming to a close. Word had been sent to me by King Thorin himself that Lady Vonild’s health was failing, so Dorbryn, Greirr and I made our way to the Lonely Mountain, stopping to inform Legolas before we did so. I knew he would want to make the trek with us if he could for he loved Mam as mother or more accurately a grandmother if you judge by the way she always spoiled him silly. 

So the four of us made the long sad journey to take turns sitting at her bedside, entertaining her and keeping her company in her last days. She could barely lift her head in the end, but her black eyes still twinkled with mischief until she drew her final breath. Shortly before she died she had sent Greirr and Legolas away on an errand that she knew would take a few hours to return from. I believe it was her plan to die while they were out for she did not wish either of them to see the moment when her life force left her body. Greirr was well past his majority by then, but in Mam’s eyes he was still too young to be exposed to such things and of course Legolas was always her baby. Besides that she knew that the concept of death was a much harder thing for those of immortal kind and he had already seen enough of it in her opinion. It was a kindness on her part to send them away, though they were devastated to find they had missed her passing when they did finally return. 

In any case, Dorbryn and I were alone with Mam when she passed and after I had said a traditional prayer over her body, I left my sister alone with her so she could dress her and do her hair in preparation for her burial while I waited to give the news to Greirr and Legolas first before we informed other family and friends. We were sitting out in the common room comforting one another, when Dorbryn joined us very flustered and frustrated. It seemed she had been looking for Mam’s bonding bracelet and could not find it anywhere. This was a disaster in her mind, for it is traditional for married folk to be buried in their bonding bracelets for the marriage bond is meant to last even when they have passed beyond the veil. It didn’t seem proper to bury her without it. 

The four of us scoured every inch of the rooms of Mam’s modest apartment to no avail and by the next day we had all the residents of Erebor searching every inch of those caves. Still we found nothing. The next day King Thranduil arrived, having been informed that Lady Vonild’s time was short. With him was a small contingent of elves who had come to be friends with my mother after her many visits to the wood. When the king saw the whole of the mountain in tumult looking for the bracelet he pulled me aside and gestured to the folks who have traveled with him.

“You can see by the guests who have come to attend her funeral, that your mother was not a traditional lady. She would not have minded being buried without her original bonding bracelet.” 

With that he handed me another bracelet, this one elven made with daintily filigreed silver and designed to look like ivy leaves growing up the wearers arm. At the time it did not occur to me to wonder why he just happened to be carrying a bracelet at the exact moment when we needed one. I only admired the beautiful bracelet and realized he was right. Mam would have thoroughly enjoyed the shocked gasps of the crowd when she was laid out wearing this delicate bit of silver as sweet elvish voices sang laments for her passing. 

Still I had always wondered what had happened to the bracelet and now that is a mystery solved once and for all. I hand it to Legolas to admire.

“She always wore it,” I tell him. “I recall getting lost in the crowd during a celebration in the grand hall during one Autumnal Equinox and the panic I felt being too small to see the faces of the adults around me. It was then I realized I could find Mam by looking for her bracelet. You can imagine my relief when I saw the red glint of the ruby that was ever present on her wrist.”

Legolas smiles fondly. “She liked rubies didn’t she? She wore them often.”

“Indeed she did. The red of the stone matched her fiery personality she always said, besides setting off her black hair. On special occasions she wore them around her neck or braided into her hair, but always she wore the bracelet that was given to her as a young bride. Having it here is almost like having a part of her with us.”

“She sent something else as well, Elvellon,” Legolas tells me, handing me a rolled parchment. My heart rate increases as I break the seal and look down at the shaky handwriting of the esteemed Lady. Her hands must have trembled with age as she wrote this, but I can almost hear her voice as I read the first of the words she wrote so long ago. I glance at Legolas who is watching me quietly so as not to intrude, but I can see he would very much like to read the letter with me so I gesture for him to sit next to me so he can see as well. He squeezes my hand and we begin to read.

My Dearest Gimli,  
By the time you read this you will have made history for our people once again by being the first dwarf to have found his way to the undying lands. I will not be there to bid you goodbye when you take ship, for I am not long for this world now, but know that I am proud of all you have accomplished and all that you will achieve after I am gone. 

Perhaps you are wondering how I knew you would take this journey at a time when you did not know yet yourself, but I can tell you it is not so hard to figure out. You see, I know you my son. King Thranduil has told me that it is inevitable that Legolas will sail. He must do so, and though you have only mentioned it once in passing that you might attempt the trip yourself, I know you will eventually decide to do so. Oh I am sure you will carefully weigh the options, meticulously listing reasons to go or not to go, but in the end you will not be able to allow him to travel alone. You see your calling is just as real and just as intense as our sweet elfling’s, though you may not realize it just now. I know I do not need to tell you to take good care of him for you will be unable to do anything else. However I will say that you must do your best to continue to be productive and happy in this land of people not of your own race. I would say ‘people not your own,” but as you know we make people our own by how we treat them and how we accept them into our hearts. You will find plenty of folks who will be ‘your own’ for your wonderfully kind and noble nature will leave them no choice but to love and respect you. I must admit, I do envy the adventure you will have!

I hope you will forgive me for not telling you about the bonding bracelet. I am sure you will all be confounded as to where it is and I hope that Thranduil will be able to ease your mind without spilling the beans so to speak. Oh I know what you are thinking, but your father knows me well and while he may shake his head in dismay when I meet him again, he will simply make me another one if there are rubies to be found in the halls of our fathers. I have never been one to hold with tradition for no good reason and I find it exciting to think that at least one small part of me will make it all the way across the sundering seas! Besides that there is nothing I can think of that will bring memories of your mother to your mind like that bracelet. I hope it brings a smile to your face when you see it.

There is so much more that I would like to say, but I seem to tire easily these days so I will just say one more thing. Recall that we will meet again someday and remind my lambkin of the same thing, for I know the Valar would not be so cruel as to keep us apart for all eternity. I will see you in the halls of our fathers and we will all be reunited at the remaking of the world. I will look forward to that day, but tell Legolas I will have something to say if he has spent too much time grieving for those who have been left behind or have already gone beyond the veil. It is only a temporary parting after all. You must always remember the past fondly, but not allow it to control your life as you look forward to the future. Also recall that I love you both with every fiber of my being and always will.

 

With love and devotion,

Mam

 

Carefully I roll the parchment and put it down beside the bracelet that sparkles and gleams in the firelight. It is almost as if it really is a living thing; a part of my mother come to stay with us. I lock the trunk one more time, briefly wondering what other treasures it may hold. Tomorrow will be soon enough to find out for tonight is for remembering Lady Vonild.

XXXX  
It has been a long day of waiting, although I have managed to curb my curiosity by spending much of the day outside involved in heavy lifting and cleaning. The two grooms and I have organized the stable block to ours and the horses’ satisfaction. Hay and sweet straw is in the hay loft the tack and saddles are cleaned and oiled, the water buckets full.

We have worked hard, although we made time for a little play as well, for it is not only elves who like to play in the snow but our horses as well. I spent an hour or so in the paddock with them while their stalls were cleaned and we had a great deal of fun. So by the time I return to the house I am not only physically tired but also wet through and snow covered. Gimli scolds me for tracking water over the stone floors but gives me access to the towels he has been busy sorting so that I can dry off a little before I have to go and change for dinner.

I can see from the satisfied look on his face that he has been equally busily occupied, although he has stayed indoors, for which I am grateful. It is too cold for him to be out all day. His health has improved since we came to the island but I still worry over him, just as I know he does me. I do not know how he has contained his curiosity as to what is in the trunk. I have been sorely tempted to try and sneak a look, but to do that I would have had to get my hands on the key which Gimli has in his belt pouch, and I have about as much chance of doing that as I have of flying. It did cross my mind that I might creep into his bed chamber while he slept but for once prudence overcame recklessness. How I wish I could be more like Gimli and contain my curiosity as he does.

He does not even seem in a hurry to open the trunk when we settle in our sitting room, but sits smoking his pipe until I am almost at breaking point so anxious am I to see what we can find. Finally he gives in and lifts the lid. Imagine our surprise to find Mam’s bonding bracelet. Such a fuss and panic there was when she died and it could not be found.

All of that is now explained by the letter she sent Gimli which he allows me to read with him. He is much moved by what Mam says and I shed more than a few tears over it as well, for I loved Lady Vonild dearly, and miss her still. Once again I am reminded just how sneaky my own parent can be. All of this time he has kept his council over the whereabouts of the bracelet and why he just happened to be carrying something ‘appropriate’ for Mam on that particular day. It is little wonder I have never been able to get the better of him all these yeni.

Gimli and I sit long into the night, remembering Mam, her mannerisms, her wisdom and most of all her capability of giving such love to those she cared for. How fortunate I was to be taken into her family and become her ‘lambkin’. Gimli always says she spoilt me, and I am sure he is right, but I am not about to complain. I enjoyed every moment of her mothering, even when she scolded and lectured me over my conduct. like my Ada she only ever did what was best for me and I will be forever grateful for her care.

Eventually we fall silent each with our own special memories. I see my friend’s hand straying to where the bracelet now sits and I know he is remembering his mother. I look into the fire and pretend not to notice when he wipes away a few tears and when I think he is ready I ask, if he will build a glass case in which to display it or would be prefer to keep it somewhere private and secure.  
I tell him I hope he will put it on display for I would dearly love to be able to see it and be reminded of the redoubtable Lady Vonild, who like her son had a heart of pure gold.

Gimli, harrumphs a little, chiding me as ‘a daft elf’ but I can see he is pleased and when I add that such a piece of dwarven craftsmanship should be seen by as many here as possible so that the elves on Tol Eressëa can learn more about his culture and his beloved Mam he nods and begins to discuss the best materials to use to make a casket that will do both the bracelet and Mam proud.

We part at the doors of our respective bed chambers wishing each other a restful night and I see that Gimli is carrying the bracelet and parchment with him still; he will no doubt read it through again before he goes to sleep and who can blame him.

As I prepare to step onto the dream path I wonder what other surprises are in the chest that we have yet to discover.


	4. Chapter 4

The morning brings another snowstorm, which prevents even me from going outdoors more than is absolutely necessary. Instead I have to find other things to occupy me and I have the very thing. While Gimli goes off to his drawing office to begin making plans for the central section of the house I inveigle the household staff into helping me make some changes to my sleeping arrangements.

The leaf shape bed is dismantled and removed to a guest chamber, much to my relief. It may have been comfortable but it is entirely too ridiculous. I must remember to ask Erestor who thought that such a thing would be appropriate for me? If the twins were here I would immediately suspect them for it is just the sort of prank they would find amusing, but they are not here and I do not know that they ever will be … I have to catch myself at this point and move my thoughts onto more positive things for I do not wish to become maudlin again. I make myself think of what my father and Mam said in their letters. They are of course right. I must make a life here and not repine on what might be.

So, I try and find out whose idea the leaf bed was from one of the maids, but she just giggles and refuse to answer. I swear I will find out eventually but for now am just happy to see its departure from my bedchamber and its replacement brought in.

This is a lovely tester bed with carved posts and headboard much more to my taste, and between us we soon have it put together. There are thick dark green curtains that go with it and these replace the gauzy silks at the windows as well as hanging from the posts of the bed itself. 

Perhaps it is spending so much time with my mortal friends but I have become accustomed to having solid walls around me in the winter months and the comforts of shutters across the windows to keep out the wind and cold. I still intend to build a flet in one of the trees that will be planted beside the completed house so I can sleep out under the stars in the summer but in the winter I like to curl up by the fire and be as Gimli would call it ‘cozy’.

Once all the heavy moving about has been completed and the bed made I sit for a while in my ‘new’ room the snow is piling up outside and the wind whipping through the rafters but the house is built to withstand far more than what nature is threatening us with.  
Our life on Arda has left us with a desire for security even here, and there are solid doors and thick stone walls that would repel any invader natural or not.

Thinking of Arda naturally leads my mind back to what else we might find in the trunk tonight. Ada’s letter spoke of many folk adding to the contents. Perhaps there will be something from Aragorn, or Elladan and Elrohir. I laugh to myself as I think what they might have added to our memories of home it is bound to be something that will make us smile. I am still smiling at the thought when Gimli enters to check on me and I am inordinately pleased to see that the transformation has surprised him.

“But where is that lovely bed?” he protests as he inspects the room.

“It has been relegated to a guest chamber” I respond, “Although if I had had my way it would have been chopped into firewood. Mistress Glasiel would not hear of it.”

“I should think not. You may not appreciate it laddie, but there will be ellith in plenty wanting to make use of it when they come and visit with ye.”

I snort in a most un-elflike manner another mannerism I have picked up from my mortal friends, “As long as they stay away from here I shall not care.” I tell him ignoring his retort ‘that one day I will’.

Instead I encourage him to come down to the sitting room, “We cannot go outside and there are several hours yet before dinner,” I put on my most appealing face and bat my eyelashes at him. “It would be a good time to open up another of our mementoes…saes!”

He makes a pretense of thinking it over but I can see he is as keen as I am to open the trunk. I cannot help but raise a cheer as he says “I suppose I will get no peace otherwise. Alright but” he adds sternly “We are only opening one gift today. There will be no second go later.”

I have little choice but to agree and we go down together, and find tea and bread ready to be toasted before the fire as we settle in for a pleasant afternoon and the snow continues to fall and drift beyond the windows.

Knowing how anxious I am to see what the next item to come from the chest will be Gimli makes me wait until we have drunk our tea and eaten the toast before he pulls out the key and hands it over to me.  
Once again my hands shake as I open the lid and pick up the next wrapped parcel, this one has both our initials on it which I think is very appropriate I offer it to Gimli but he urges me to open it even as he peers down at what is in my lap, for I am sitting on the rug at his feet as usual.

I pull back the silk and find a large flat folder of calf leather, it is dark blue in colour and initially I think it must have come from Gondor Then I realize that it is not Gondor at all but The Shire.

“Gimli, it is from The Shire,” my words are foolish for he can see as well as I where the folder came from yet the pleasure I feel at having something from my Hobbit friends is overwhelming 

“Aye Lamb so I can see. Ye had best open it and see what is inside.”

I untie the ribbon and see that what is inside is a series of illustrations, but also a letter in a hand I do not immediately recognize. I break the seal and see that it has been written by Elanor Gamgee, Sam and Rosie’s eldest daughter who had been a lady in waiting to Queen Arwen.

Dear Uncle Legolas and Uncle Gimli

I hope you will forgive my writing to you in this fashion, but I remember so well the times you came to visit Sam dad and Mother Rose and all us children and how kind and generous you both were to us all.

You will know that Mother Rose went to her rest some time ago, and Sam dad then chose to follow Mr. Frodo into the furthermost west as was his right.  
So, it falls to me as the eldest of their brood to answer the request sent by King Thranduil and Lady Vonild for a memento from the Shire.

I spoke with Thain Peregrin and the Master of Buckland Meriodoc the Magnificent before they removed to Minas Tirith and prepared to meet the end of their lives and it is mainly through their kind offices that this remembrance has come into being. I do so hope that you will accept it in the spirit it was sent. Uncle Pippin told me that you both have a good sense of humor and both loved the Shire almost as well as we Hobbits. He was the one who chose the different views. Uncle Merry did the actual drawings.  
I have added the words and reminders from Sam dad’s journal and from Uncle Frodo’s diaries where necessary.

We all hope that they will bring to mind happy memories of your time with us and the Hobbit families you met when you visited Bag End and the Shire.

We hope that you are now happily settled in your new home. Please give our love and regards to any that may recall us in kindness and believe we all very much love and miss you.

 

Elanor Gamgee 

 

I sit with the letter in my hand for a moment or two until Gimli nudges my shoulder, and urges me to open the folder.

I untie the ribbon and the first illustration we see is of Bag End itself, the round front door, painted green, the garden and the smoke curling up from the chimney into the blue sky.   
How many adventures started from a knock on that door I wonder: Bilbo and the dwarves, the encounter with Smaug the magnificent, Frodo and Sam, setting out to take the ring to Rivendell with Merry and Pippin and all the other Hobbits we came to know so well all seemed to come through that particular door. I can see Gimli is remembering those days as well.

The times we spent with the Gamgee family, Sam and Rose and their seemingly ever growing family, it seemed as if all the days were filled with sunshine although that is only in our memory I expect, yet the love they held for each other is true enough.

The caption on the illustration says ‘Welcome Friends’ and as I look more closely at all the detailed work I notice figures in the lane leading to the hill, and I laugh out loud for it is Gimli and I on Arod. I point us out to my friend and we share another smile before turning to the next drawing.  
This one is of the mallorn tree that Sam planted when he returned from the quest It shows the tree in summer in all her glory, her leaves sparkling, and the golden flowers in full bloom. I feel as if I could reach out and touch them so real it all is.   
Around the tree are a group of Hobbits all gazing skywards. I see Gimli is with them pointing at something in the topmost branches of the tree.   
I am nowhere to be seen and I must be looking somewhat puzzled about my absence because Gimli claps me on the shoulder and chuckles.

“Don’t ye recall the day, Lamb? You are up in the tree attempting to bring down young Faramir Took who had climbed up but was too frightened to come down on his own.”

Of course I recall the occasion now for I brought the Hobbit child down safely and was accounted a hero by the Hobbits especially Pippin, who I see has called this picture ‘The Heroes Return’. Gimli, however, was angry with me for placing myself in danger by going out onto a slender limb to reach young Faramir. I was fortunate to get away with just a scolding, for I recognized both the fear and anger in Gimli’s eyes when I reached the ground. But Mistress Rose diverted his attention for a moment and Pippin and Merry spirited me away with them until Gimli had calmed down somewhat. I grin and nod. “Indeed I remember it very well. You were worried I might fall out of the tree, as if I would!”

He growls at me and flicks my ear calling me a cheeky brat, saying that he has known me fall from trees on more than one occasion.

I ignore this and turn to the next page which is of the Green Dragon Inn on the Bywater Road. The inn had, had to be rebuilt after the Scouring of the Shire left it empty and desolate, but when we went there it was full of life and fun and one of Gimli’s favourite places in the Shire for it served very good ale.   
Merry has drawn a view of the inside parlor on the day when Aragorn, myself, Gimli, Sam, Merry and Pippin all sat down to sample the beer and to drink a toast to ‘Absent Friends’ as the picture is called. It was a good evening. Aragorn looking more like Strider than the king of the reunited kingdoms and all of us in good spirits.

As I remember it, some of us were in very good spirits indeed by the end of the evening and had to be helped back to Bag End. Gimli must recognise the twinkle in my eyes as I point out the different patrons in the bar to him for he growls, “Ye needna say anything elfling, I well remember the strength of that Hobbit ale. It was stronger even than the stuff they had in Rohan.”

“I was merely going to say how educational some of the songs that were sung that night were, and your dancing was at least as good as Aragorn’s if I recall.”

He chuckles and nods, “Aye I have always been accounted to have a good pair of feet when it comes to the dance”

He looks at his feet which are clothed in fur lined felt indoor boots, and safely settled on a footstool so as to benefit from the heat of the fire. As I recall he and Aragorn spent much of the journey home tripping over their own feet as they tried to emulate Merry and Pippin’s rambunctious steps. Sam and I walked home arm in arm, with silly smiles on our faces as they tripped and tumbled in front of us, but I am far too comfortable sitting on the floor at his side to risk annoying him by reminding him of this fact. 

I turn to the next drawing instead and this one makes us both smile for it is a view of the large kitchen in Bag End. The whole Gamgee clan are there in their seats, Sam and Rose and all their family, with Merry, Pippin, myself and Gimli both of us with a Gamgee child on our knees. The table is groaning under the weight of a typical Hobbit celebratory dinner. It must be a depiction of one of the occasions when we joined together to celebrate Frodo and Bilbo’s birthdays for through the window I can see the autumn colours in the garden and there as I look more closely I see sitting on the iron work seat that Gimli had made for them, in the shelter of the birch trees I planted in the garden, the shimmering figures of Frodo and Bilbo and standing behind them: Gandalf in his true form as a Maia.

It is a beautiful composition and one that as Gimli also sees the additional figures makes him gasp. It is as if they are looking straight at us and as we return their gaze I am certain I see them smile.

“Gimli,” I choke, “did you see?”

“Aye Lamb. We are highly privileged I think. There is a touch of Tharkûn’s magic here right enough.” 

He closes the folder as he speaks and I find I have nothing to argue about his choice, while I would enjoy seeing the other illustrations I think enough is enough for now. We have plenty of time to indulge our memories and at the moment I would wish to spend time remembering and commemorating the sacrifices that Bilbo and Frodo Baggins made so that the rest of Middle Earth might live in peace.

Tomorrow we will see what new treasures may come to light when we open the trunk. Tonight we will indulge ourselves in talking of the ring bearer and mayhap raise a glass or more to his memory. After all if the snow continues to fall as it is, we will have little to do tomorrow but to delve into the chest and find some new treasure to enjoy.

XXXX

 

The winters here on in the Undying Lands seem to be every bit as severe as they were back in Middle Earth, for this morning another snow storm has assaulted us. Not that I mind a bit, for we are safely sheltered in our new home and with everything we need already with us. However other than those who need to tend to the stock, no one will be venturing outside today. There is no argument or discussion about this when I make this pronouncement, which must mean that Legolas must have gotten his fill of snow yesterday. We do not have to worry about how to fill the morning, for there are still things that need to be taken care of. The work on the house will continue in the spring and I will have to have the plans ready well ahead of time, so after sharing a light morning meal with my elfling and the staff-who already are beginning to feel like family-I take myself off to work on drawing some plans for the next section of the house that will be built when we are able to resume work again. 

I am so absorbed in my work that several hours have passed before I realize it is already mid morning. I decide to take a break and go to see what Legolas has managed to find to do within the confines of the house. I find him sitting quietly in his bedchamber, but obviously he has been busy, for the room is transformed to one much more suitable to his taste. The elaborate leaf –shaped bed is nowhere to be seen. I can understand Legolas’ dislike of the rather fussy bit of furniture, but still I hate to see anything happen to it as it truly was a work of art in its own way. He reassures me when I ask, that Mistress Glasiel has made certain that it was safely moved to a guest chamber, though he would have just as soon seen it destroyed. He snorts derisively when I point out that many female visitors will love to have a chance to sleep on such a bed and maintains that he will not be the least bit interested in entertaining such guests. He ignores my comment that he may well change his mind in future, which I find most amusing. 

It has been a subject I have teased him about a few times over the years and one that I am only now realizing will no longer be an issue for him. The large amounts of time he has spent with mortal kind and his being the only elven youngster left in Middle Earth has given him a unique life experience. Legolas grew up in a time when elven families with young children had decided to sail into the west in order to avoid the shadow that was steadily growing over the land. Those couples who remained were not having more children, for they did not wish to rear them in such circumstances. This meant that any friends he had that were his same ‘age’ or stage of life were all of mortal kind and inevitably would out pace him in maturity in time.

By the time I met him, Aragorn seemed very like a parental figure to Legolas, though I know they met when Aragorn was a young child. Over the years I saw it happen again and again beginning with our hobbit companions. Frodo of course was well into middle age when we began the quest, though having had possession of the ring, he looked almost childlike still. Sam was also well into adulthood, though somewhat younger than Frodo and Merry was a very young adult. However young Pippin had not yet reached his majority, making him the closest to Legolas in stage of life. Yet not many years after the war, he married, became a father then a grandfather and eventually died after a long and happy life. All the while my elfling still remained an adolescent, though he did not like being reminded of it as if it were something to be ashamed of. I have assured him many times that it is not, but is only the natural thing for immortals and that he must not expect things to be the same for those who have much shorter life spans. Still I do realize it must have been difficult watching one friend after another outgrow him for it eventually happened with them all, including my nephew who as a child practically idolized Legolas. Adolescence lasts longer for dwarves than it does for some mortals because we are relatively long lived, so there were a good few years where the two of them managed to get into a good deal of mischief together when they were able to get together. Eventually though Greirr married and had a son and like the others left his crazier days behind him. I saw the same thing happen time and again with other mortal friends, though the lad never did make an effort to become close to King Eldarion’s young son. By that time, I suspect it was too painful to take on another mortal friend who would as surely as the others grow old and eventually leave him.

Another interesting aspect of this problem of different maturity rates among the races was that the human females of Minas Tirith did not understand that Legolas was not the same as the young men who resided in the city. Since other than the pointed ears he looked very much like an attractive young human male, the young lasses of the city vied for his attention, often following him around making moon eyes at least until their mother’s caught them at it, though to be perfectly honest some of the mothers were not much better behaved. I used to tease him about needing a personal guard to fend off the ladies, though to be quite truthful I acted as such at times when some of the cruder more forward types were around for I did not like to see every last bit of innocence he still had be trampled for enough of it had been destroyed by witnessing the horrors of war. 

In any case, the young ladies were quite confused and unhappy about his lack of interest in them, not realizing that as an elf he was not only not of an age where such things were appropriate or desirable, but also that elves do not take courting and coupling so casually as humans do. So while I jested about it occasionally, I did realize it was an aggravation to him and one that I am glad he will no longer have to deal with. The ellith here will realize the inappropriateness of seeking his attention before he is ready for it though I suppose that could begin in the next few hundred years or so. Not only that, but any friends he might make who are his age now will mature along at the same pace instead of bypassing him, which is an interesting thought. I have seen the elven children and adolescents here, but so far I have only made acquaintance with young Tàras who worked side by side with me while we were building the west wing. The elfling has become a friend and a great asset to us, though I’m not certain Legolas has completely forgiven him for his foolishness early on. 

My musing is interrupted when Legolas tugs on my sleeve and speaks in his most appealing voice. 

 

“We cannot go outside and there are several hours yet before dinner,” he says, batting his eyes at me for good measure, “It would be a good time to open up another of our mementoes, saes!”

I pretend to think about it, but I am just as eager as he is to do so, though I remind him that one a day means one a day and we will not be opening another one later tonight no matter how big his eyes get. He agrees and soon we are sitting cozily in front of the fire in the sitting room toasting bread and sipping tea as the snow piles up outside our window. Afterwards I hand over the key and Legolas pulls out a blue leather folder that I can see has come from the Shire. There is a lovely letter with it from the eldest of Samwise Gamgee’s children, along with some beautiful paintings done by Merry, who along with dear Pippin has managed to come up with several scenes from our times visiting Bag End. Elanor explains in her letter how she has kept the paintings safe until the time came to pack them away in the trunks that were to travel west. We pour over the very lifelike paintings, each one depicting a special memory. Legolas laughs over one that shows the time he nearly killed himself by crawling out onto a limb hardly big enough to hold a bird to rescue Faramir Took.

“Indeed I remember it very well; you were worried I might fall out of the tree,” he chortles, “As if I would.”

He finds it funny now because he got away unscathed by anything other than scolding words that day, but only because of the hobbits assisting him. I remind him that he has fallen from trees more than once to my knowledge and hasn’t always got away with such carelessness. I do not point out that it was just a few months ago right here on the lonely isle that he fell from a tree and became too disoriented to find his way home. I doubt that he would relish thinking about being hauled back into Lord Elrond’s house over my shoulder or of what happened shortly afterwards either, so I just laugh along with him, accusing him of being the cheeky brat that he is. 

We continue enjoying the paintings for the rest of the afternoon and cannot resist coming back and looking through them again in the evening. They are worth having more than one look and each time we pass through them again we notice details that we didn’t see on previous viewings. Whether that is because we missed them the first time, or because of some magic that was mixed into the paint, I do not know, but I cannot remember when we’ve had such an enjoyable day.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning we rise to find that nothing has improved outside. Again we are forced to stay in and I insist that Legolas join me to look over the plans I have drawn so I can get his opinion on them and see if he is happy with what I have come up with. If it were up to him he would just let me choose how things should be and not realize he would prefer something different until the actual structure was being put up. So while I realize he would rather be doing almost anything else, I make him sit with me and hash out the details of the plans, though I have to use different measures to gain his attention several times during the process when I see that his eyes are glazing over as I speak. It is a grueling process, but I’d rather get it over in one day than to try to return to it another, so we spend the entire day working on these plans.

By the time we put the plans away there has been more than one swear word uttered, not to mention a few threats to ‘pay attention or else,’ so it is no wonder that we are both greatly relieved when it comes time for our evening ritual of finding out what else is inside the trunk. I am a little surprised that he still wants to spend the evening with me after the day we’ve had, but once we are seated in our usual places in front of the fire he seems to have forgiven me and is his usual pleasant self when he asks for the key.

By way of apology for torturing him all day, I kiss the top of his head before handing the key over on the first request rather than teasing him as I have done before, for his patience has already been tried to the limit this day. In turn he graciously offers me the small package that he pulls out to be opened. I try to give it back for him to open, but he insists that it is my turn.

Carefully I unwrap it to see what is hidden under the bit of silk. Unlike last time, though, I do not immediately recognize what it is. It appears to be some kind of dried out husk of some kind of vegetation, about the size of an apple and I cannot imagine what it is or who would send us such a thing. To me it looks like some kind of sun dried fruit, but what we would want with such a thing is beyond me. Before I open the letter that goes with it, I handed the item over to Legolas to see if he can identify it any better than I can.

He carefully examines it from all sides and holds it up to the light for a moment. Next he takes a hesitant sniff and then the light of recognition comes into his eyes.

“It is a dried fruit taken from the White Tree of Gondor,” he tells me. “This must be from Aragorn then?” His voice shakes slightly, for of all our mortal friends, I believe Aragorn’s loss was the hardest on him.

“Well let us find out, Lamb,” I tell him breaking the seal on the parchment. I am about to pull him up into my lap to read the letter with me, for this could be a difficult one, but I notice as soon as I see the letter that it is not in Aragorn’s bold hand. “No not from Aragorn, Lad, but from the current King of Gondor.”

“Eldarion sent this,” he says and looks slightly relieved that we won’t be reading Elessar’s words tonight.

“Indeed he did. Shall I read it aloud?” I ask him. He nods and I begin to read the letter.

My dear friends,  
I hope this letter finds you in good health and enjoying life in your new home, for I know your last years here were difficult ones and I like to think that you have now found peace. When I was asked for a memento by King Thranduil, I thought long and hard about what I could give the two of you that would somehow repay you for the kindnesses you’ve show me and my family over the years and also repay you in some small way for the many sacrifices you have both made to ensure the safety of all of Middle Earth. It was then that I realized that I have nothing. No way to repay you for what you have done, or for what your friendship meant to my father and mother both.

Legolas I realize that a good part of the reason you waited so long to take ship was that you did not wish to leave Father and that after he was gone, you hadn’t the heart to leave Lady Arwen either. It means a great deal to me that you stuck by them, even at such a great cost to yourself and Lord Gimli, your willingness to sacrifice for a friend is well known far and wide and proven even more so by the very fact of your deciding to set sail at all. I am deeply humbled by you both. But since there is no way I can repay you, I thought to send something that might remind you of us when you are beyond the realms of Middle Earth. There is nothing that reminds me of home so much as the scent of the blossoms that bloom in the spring evenings from the White Tree itself. Upon returning from my many travels I have never felt like I was home until I smelled that heady fragrance.

Yes I realize that the first White Tree was a gift from Tol Eressëa to the men of Númenor so for all I know the land you now occupy is chock full of such trees, though there is only one that I’m aware of here in Middle Earth. Still this particular fruit is from a descendent of Nimloth, and of the tree grown from the fruit stolen by Isildur as the island of Númenor was being destroyed and perhaps it will be special to you for that reason. (See I did pay attention to my history lessons no matter what Mother told you!)

It is my fond wish that the two of you will save this fruit until your home is completed and plant it somewhere where you can catch the sweet scent of the white blossoms in springtime. When you do so, please recall the wonderful times you’ve had here without any sadness or regret. Only enjoy the sweet fragrance and think of us.

With kind regards,

Eldarion Telcontar  
King of the Reunited Kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor

 

 

 

It is only after I have put the parchment aside that I notice that the silk wrapping was actually a small flag of Gondor with the White tree displayed prominently on it. Possibly this one was made by Lady Arwen herself, for she enjoyed such work, but I am not sure how to tell if that is the case or not. I look over the dried fruit husk again. It is hard to believe anything could grow from it, but Legolas assures me that such things carry life even in harsh conditions and is only lying dormant.

“We just have to find the right spot for it and it should flourish,” he tells me, “We only need to protect it until the time is right and then it should do fine on its own.” His words cause an unexpected lump to form in my throat, for they seem to be a metaphor for my hopes for him and for my role here.

My greatest wish is for my elfling to take root and flourish here, just as he expects this tree to do, before I leave this place and pass beyond the veil. I must do my best to protect him until the time is right.

 

xxxxx

I lie in my new bed and listen to the wind whipping up the snow beyond our solid walls and the stentorian snoring of my friend Gimli in the room next door. I am pleasantly relaxed and content with my lot as I survey my bedchamber from the light of the fire. My rooms are beginning to feel as if they are ‘mine’. That sounds foolish but after several months as a guest of Lord Elrond and his family I have enjoyed making this set of rooms my own. Having rid myself of that foolish bed, I finally got round to opening up some of the chests and boxes that contain some of my personal effects. I have hung my long bows on the wall and placed the paintings of my Ada and Naneth on the desk under the window.  
Books and charts are stacked on the shelves, and other things I brought with me are on the dresser. My clothing is stored in the clothes presses and Rusc is perched up on the mantle above the fire place.  
It has been another good day, well some of it was not so good. Spending time trying to show interest in the finer parts of house design was hard and several times I suspect I was in imminent danger of coming up against Gimli’s formidable temper, but somehow we got through the day with my hide intact and then spent another evening of reminiscence as we opened up another gift from Arda.  
This one was a puzzle to both of us initially but when I realized what it was Eldarion had sent us I was really thrilled, for it will be a challenge to grow this seed of the White tree here. For now the husk is back in its wrappings. It will be some months yet before I can plant it up and coax it into new life and when it has grown sufficiently Gimli and I will be able to sit beneath it and enjoy its scent.  
Then my heart clenches for it occurs to me that it will be many years before the tree will be ready to flower and my Gimli although he has been promised a long life may not live to see it and he knew it too for as I stupidly chattered on about it, I saw a shadow of doubt and loss cross his features. He swiftly disguised it and told me it was just the surprise of Eldarion’s gift that made his brow furrow. I realize now he was thinking he may not live to see the tree come to full growth.  
My pleasant thoughts and feelings of earlier are all chased away at this chilling thought. When my beloved dwarf dies I will be alone rattling round in a house that will be far too big for me with memories of my friend everywhere I look. What comfort will such mementoes be to me then?

Almost I rise and go and seek solace in the company of Gimli. I know he would not deny me the reassurance his company provides, but I make myself remain where I am. I will not spoil his night’s rest. Instead I rise and wrap a robe around my shoulders and go to sit before the fire, hoping its warmth will cheer me.  
As I move across the chamber my eyes rest again on the small painting of my Adar, and I am reminded of all he sacrificed and the losses he has lived through and am ashamed by my own weakness. After everything Gimli has given up for me, it would be incredibly selfish to wallow in grief over something that is natural for his kind and also over something neither he nor I can change. I must make the most of my time with him, and store up memories for when I am alone. I pick up Rusc and smile as I think of Adar slipping him in the chest along with all the other things that he sent for me and all the wonderful gifts that were sent by our friends.

Those lovely memories and mementoes are all we have left of our friends back in Middle Earth and they will be treasured just as I must treasure my time with Gimli from now on. With this thought in mind I return to bed, taking Rusc with me and tucking him under my pillow, as I seek sleep. Tomorrow I will start afresh to assure myself that the time I have with my friend will not be wasted in complaint or argument, but enjoyed to the full.

 

I wake at dawn, although the thickness of the curtains and the shutters keep out any hint of light, it is cold, so I hurry to get the fire going before opening the shutters and taking a look outside. The storm has blown itself out overnight it seems, and a pale winter sun is just rising, today I should be able to get outside if only to help clear snow and exercise the horses. First, I cross over and enter Gimli’s room. He is still asleep so I build up his fire so that the room will be warm when he wakes. This having been achieved I step across to the bed and look down at my slumbering friend. In repose his features smooth out and he looks younger. Despite the white hair and beard, his health has improved since we arrived on Tol Eressëa and I think a quiet winter will allow him to rebuild his strength. We will have plenty to occupy ourselves with during these months and I am resolved to begin to keep a journal of my own so that I can note our daily doings and keep them for the future.

I am about to slip quietly out when Gimli stirs, his warrior’s instincts are still intact and he senses that someone is nearby.

“It is only me Gimli.” I call out to allay any concern. “I was just making up the fire so the room will be warm when you rise.”

He pulls himself up in the bed and looks at me with a fond smile, “That was kind of ye Lamb. Did ye sleep well?”

“Well enough.” I reply “the snow has stopped. It will be a fine winter morning I think. I am going to go and help clear the snow from the stable yard so the horses can exercise safely.”

“Not until ye have broken your fast ye are not.”

“Gimli,” my protests at this edict are swiftly cut off.

“There is not an ounce of meat on your bones as it is,” he scolds, “ye will eat a good first meal before you go out into this cold. Aye and put on a proper cloak as well.”

My mother hen guardian is in full cry this morning it seems, so it is only fair that I tease him in return. I drop my eyes and say meekly “Yes Nana”

He growls at me for my cheekiness but his eyes are twinkling so I know he is not really angry, instead he waves me away and tells me to get dressed and not to spend all day ‘primping’ with my hair as he is hungry enough to eat a cave troll whole. I am still laughing as I return to my own rooms to dress.


	6. Chapter 6

A full day outside is enough to sharpen even my appetite. Gimli also seems to have found his appetite for we both eat well this evening. Mistress Glasiel is very pleased with us both, for she seems to have taken Lord Elrond’s words to heart about seeing we are well fed and she does not approve of us ‘eating like birds’ as she described our appetites, or at least my appetite for Gimli has always enjoyed his food and eats heartily.

When we are once more in our accustomed places by the fireside Gimli passes me the key to the chest and I fit it into the lock.  
The next layer of the chest is now exposed, the packages are wrapped in the green and gold of Rohan, on the edge of the cloth is the running horse motif of the Horse lords. There are two parcels, one with my name on it the other addressed to Gimli.

As usual we choose to open the gifts one at a time so we can enjoy each other’s presents and recall our lives back on Arda. I urge Gimli to open his package and after a small argument he does so and when he does we see a beautiful mithril tankard. It is typical of the ones found in Rohan, with beautiful carvings in relief all around the body, while the handle is in the shape of a horse’s head. It is a truly lovely piece of craftsmanship, and as we admire it I see that the decoration on the body of the tankard mixes both Rohirrim and dwarfish designs. The golden hall of Meduseld, the stronghold at Helms Deep, the Glittering Caves and the rolling plains of the East Fold are mixed with the designs for dwarven axes, runes and armour. Whoever has made this has taken a great deal of care to ensure it is as close to the real thing as possible. 

“Oh Gimli,” I breathe “it is beautiful. Is there no letter to go with it?”

“Not in my parcel lad. Is there nothing with your gift?”

I look down at the present in my lap. It is heavy and quite bulky, but there is no letter merely a card that states the gifts come from Rohan with much love and thanks to us both and it is signed by the son of Eomer.  
It is typical of the folk of Rohan that writing is kept to a minimum. Their history has ever been told in song and story rarely written down and it seems even at this time the horse lords were not prepared to put into words what they could show in their craftsmanship.

Gimli’s gift was stunning so when I open mine I am unsurprised to find the same kind of high quality workmanship. I unwrap the green cloth to find a wooden carving, but what a carving! It is a likeness of Shadowfax beautifully rendered so much so that you would think that if you placed it on the ground it would race away across the plains of Rohan.

“Well now,” Gimli runs a finger along the back of the statue, “they could not have chosen anything that you would have enjoyed more than this, for ye have always had a foolish fondness for those four legged beasties.”

Even as he says this he is admiring the quality of the carving and the likeness to the Lord of the Mearas we were introduced to back on the plains of Rohan, it is clear that Gimli’s memory, like mine goes back to the reunion with Gandalf in Fangorn Forest, aye and the aftermath of that reunion when we reached Meduseld and I was almost killed by the machinations of Grima Wormtongue. It was my own fault of course. Had I listened and followed Gandalf’s instructions it would not have occurred, but the fact is I did not listen and I nearly lost my life because of it. Gimli was furious with me, furious and terrified, and those two states of mind are not conducive to calm reflection in a dwarf, the very opposite in fact. When Gimli caught up with me my rear end was properly roasted. I was limping for three full days and did not sit in comfort for at least six. Yet I cannot dispute that what he did, he did for love and out of concern, and when I look up at him I can see he is recalling that time and thinking that should the situation ever recur he would do it all again. That is a very discomforting thought and yet it is curiously comforting also.  
XXXX

 

The gifts from Rohan are just as we would expect, high quality craftsmanship, but without much explanation, though both items have invoked strong memories just as much as all the others have. We have had some wonderful times with our friends there over the years, but this particular night that is not what I am recalling and judging by the way Legolas moves a bit closer and leans against my knee, I believe he is sharing my thoughts as well. Even now just the thought of the events of that day have the power to make me tremble with fear for I almost lost the Lad and for a very foolish reason. I suppress a shudder and automatically my hand reaches out to touch his hair in a gesture that has become quite comforting to me over the years, mainly because it assures me that he is within arms reach and quite safe, something that should have been true that day so long ago. 

I have never told Legolas so, but I blame myself for what happened. His impulsive nature put him in a dangerous situation that night. Had I realized it, I would never let him out of my sight, but at the time we were still just getting to know one another and I didn’t understand that the order we all received from Gandalf would not be enough to keep him safe. 

Gandalf’s encounter with King Théoden’s advisor who soon proved to be Saruman’s henchman, Grima Wormtongue, had had spectacular results. He was no match for the old wizard of course, but Gandalf advised us that we should not underestimate him for while he didn’t particularly look like a dangerous foe, he likely had some way of protecting himself in the form of Saruman’s magic, something that was beyond the abilities of any of us, other than Gandalf himself to fight. The sneaky devil still might be about, and anyone who caught sight of him should withdraw immediately and report the sighting to the wizard. It was a straightforward enough order and one that should have been easy to follow, but what I did not take into account was the recklessness and thoughtlessness of youth. 

Youngsters of all races are usually impulsive and have to learn that they are not invincible or impervious to danger, often learning this fact of life through difficult trials. I fully admit to being foolish about such things myself at that stage of life. Most, however, do so in a significantly less perilous setting than the middle of a war. Normally there is a parent about who knows the child well and does his best to protect him from himself by foreseeing dangerous situations and preventing his offspring from throwing himself headlong into them. But as I said before, at that time I was only learning the ropes, so I did not think twice when Legolas informed me that he was planning to leave the small bedchamber we were sharing with Aragorn to take a look around the city. Were the same situation to occur today my answer would be an unmitigated “no” without room for negotiation, at least not without me escorting him myself, but that day I only bid him goodbye. It still pains me to recall that I did not even think to remind him to heed Gandalf’s edict, but that is the ugly fact. I allowed him to go without a second thought. Aye and to my eternal shame even managed to fall asleep without a thing on my mind but how tired I was.

I was awakened a few hours later by an urgent pounding on my door. Upon opening it, I was informed by a trembling guard that my presence was needed in the healing wards, for my companion and charge had been injured in some way and was unlikely to see the dawn. My heart leapt in terror at this news and I hurried to follow the messenger who explained on our way that Legolas had indeed encountered Saruman’s henchman and attempted to corner and capture him, rather than doing as he had been ordered and fleeing the situation. A saloon worker who had cut through the alley on his way home from work had found him unconscious in a dark side alley. The worker had believed him to be dead already, but Gandalf had found a flicker of life force left in him and was trying to revive him as we spoke, though I wasn’t to hold out much hope. Saruman’s magic was strong and Legolas had been found quite late. 

I arrived to the healing ward to find Aragorn standing outside it, looking as grey and haggard as I’ve ever seen him before or after. He had been relegated to wait outside while Gandalf attempted to solve the spell that had been cast over our friend and all I could do was squeeze his hand briefly before standing next to him and trying to discern what was taking place beyond the door. It seemed that we stood there for days, but I know now that it was really no more than three quarters of an hour, before the door was opened and we were permitted inside. 

I cannot begin to describe my relief at seeing my elfling, not only alive and safe, but looking as strong and healthy as he ever had. Gandalf explained that since the spell had been lifted, there should be no residual effect and the child would be as good as new after a night’s rest. Certainly he was well enough to endure whatever penalties I deemed fitting for such a ‘stupidly childish act’ for he was finished dealing with ‘useless feather-brained brats’ for one day. While I was exceedingly grateful for the wizard’s ability to save the lad’s life, I was also a little put off by his words. It seemed to me an unfair thing to allow someone who he knew was too young to come along on such a hazardous quest and then fault him for acting childishly. Perhaps a being as ancient as the wizard could no longer remember what it was like to be young and impulsive. The same could be true for Lord Elrond who chose the lad in the first place for a quest he did not have permission for and that he perhaps should never have been included in. It is a question I have agonized over many times, but have never come to a proper conclusion about, but of course it did not matter anyway.

The fact was he was there and I was in charge of looking out for him. I knew I had failed miserably in my duty to him, but I was determined to do my best to prevent a repeat occurrence.

Legolas remembers this time as the time I was the angriest I have ever been with him, and maybe he is right. Certainly I was livid, for Gandalf had every right to expect his obedience and his foolish decision to defy this order nearly got him killed. Still I knew Legolas had not set off that evening looking for trouble or intending to be defiant, but had been overcome at the sight of that cur, Grima Wormtongue and had acted without thinking through the consequences of his actions. No, the bigger portion of my anger was at myself for not foreseeing this possibility and preventing the Lad from having to go through such a thing in the first place. I knew, though, that I could not let it go without a convincing reminder that such disobedience would never be tolerated.

As I looked at my seemingly completely recovered charge, my knees went weak at the thought of what might have happened and I barely allowed myself the indulgence of reassuring myself that he really was fine, before setting my jaw and going about convincing him that such a thing would not take place again. I have always tried to be careful about keeping private things private between us for even when I am dismayed at his actions I still love the child and would not like to humiliate him by calling public attention to his disgrace. I always do my best to allow him to keep his dignity in tact in front of others. After all, what takes place between us is no one else’s business. 

On that particular day, however, there must have been little doubt in anyone’s mind over what was about to happen as I frog marched him all the way back to our tiny chambers. Quite frankly privacy was the furthest thing from my mind just then. I did not think to keep my voice down when I ordered him to find his own wooden hairbrush from his pack-a severe measure that I had never used before and have seldom used since. I was not concerned that others might overhear and recognize the sound of wood making contact with bare flesh, nor did I worry that the accompanying howls would give away what was taking place. I was only bent on making the consequences of such careless, foolish behavior so unpleasant that he would never consider doing such a thing again. By the time I was finished with him, every inch of exposed skin all the way down to his knees looked scorched, including the tender flesh of his inner thighs. By then he only had the strength to lie limply across my lap and sob incoherently. I felt like joining him in a good cry, but that would have been useless and self-indulgent.

Instead I dropped the brush to the floor and placed a hand on his lower back, offering my support as he tried to catch his breath and compose himself. It was some time before he carefully slid from my lap and late the next morning before he was able to withstand anything more than a light sheet touching his battered flesh. He had just finished the difficult process of dressing the next morning, when I sternly informed him that he was not to go beyond my sight until further notice. I had expected him to argue fiercely about this restriction, but he surprised me by looking almost relieved and then shyly admitting that it had been a frightening experience to realize how close he had come to dying. He then gave me a spontaneous embrace and thanked me for putting up with him. 

It was then that it dawned on me that in all the chaos we were experiencing, he actually felt more comfortable with someone around to draw firm lines in the dirt and prevent him from crossing them. I had not known before how much reassurance he got from the fact that he had been placed in my care, even if he did rail at the situation at times. It is still true today, even if he does call me a ‘mother hen’ and accuse me of being over protective. He can still feel secure and rely on the fact that he can only go so far outside of certain boundaries before being yanked firmly back in and there is more comfort in that knowledge than a person might expect.

I cannot say I regretted being so harsh with him back then, but I did feel sorry for the situation he had managed to get into and I still felt it was more my fault than anyone else’s. I stuck firmly to my word, though, and kept him at my side all the way up to the battle when such a decree was no longer practical. To his utter dismay I even waited just outside the door even while he attended the most private of matters, though no one dared to harass him about it for I would not tolerate him being so treated. He had paid the price for his foolishness and I was not about to have him scolded or teased under any circumstances. Even Gandalf himself seemed reluctant to look at the lad sideways for fear of my reaction though perhaps that was my imagination.

As I look at him now I contemplate how my life would have turned out had things gone differently on that day so long ago. It certainly would have been less colorful and less joyful for this child means more to me than any other. Even now I shudder to think of the dreadful words of the messenger who was sent to inform me of Legolas’ expected demise.  
Evidently my thoughts are showing on my face for Legolas pats my hand comfortingly.

“I’m sorry, Elvellon,” he says. “I should have known better.”

“Don’t be daft, child, there is no reason to be sorry. I’m not holding a grudge over something that happened over a hundred years ago.” I tell him. “I forgave you that day and besides it was mostly my fault anyway.”

His brow furrows in confusion, and he opens his mouth to argue with me, but I change the topic by suggesting that we, just this once, open one more item from the trunk before we go to bed. While the gifts from Rohan were lovely, the carving of Shadowfax did not spark memories that I would like to go to sleep on.


	7. Chapter 7

I open my mouth to argue with Gimli over whose fault it was back in Meduseld, then see the pain and anguish that he still feels over the episode even now.  
There is no way that he could be counted at fault for what happened. It was entirely my own doing that I found myself face to face almost with Saruman through the eyes and body of his henchman Grima Wormtongue.

Even given all the other experiences we shared, the Balrog in Moria, the fell beasts and Sauron himself, coming into such close contact with evil as I did on that night is enough to give me night terrors. I was caught in a web of which there was no escaping, completely in the thrall of the white wizard and close to death. Had Mithrandir not been present in Edoras I would undoubtedly have died and most likely fallen into the spirit world from which there is no escape even after death.  
I might even have found myself turned into a wraith! Such a thought is enough to give me the shivers.

“Lamb?”

I shake off my feelings of disquiet and force a smile to my lips, “I was just wondering which of the gifts we should open next.”  
I can see that he is not convinced by my words but is content to pretend to believe me for now so I hurry to open the lid of the chest and fumble about to find something that will turn both our thoughts to happier memories.  
Near the bottom I find a heavy parcel, wrapped in white and grey velvet and deduce from the insignia on it that it has come from Ithilien. I haul it out and set down on the floor.

“Now that looks interesting,” Gimli leans forward to have a closer look at the mysterious gift.

“Well open it laddie! If it is from Ithilien it must be for you.”

I slowly remove the cord that holds the velvet closed and as I do so I realize that there is two gifts not one. One appears to be a small tapestry, rolled and fastened with a green twisted silken rope of elven make. The tapestry must have come from the elves that made their home with me in Ithilien. I am touched by their thoughtfulness for I abandoned them in effect because of the sea longing and fled west.

As ever Gimli seems able to read my thoughts and grumbles that he would never have suggested we open another remembrance if he thought I was going to start blaming myself all over again for a situation I had no control over.

I am tempted to say that this stricture is akin to pot calling kettle black, for he has just been doing the very same thing with the incident in Rohan, but before I can put my thoughts into words that would not earn me at the least a clipped ear, Gimli laughs and admits the very same thought had occurred to him.

We both laugh at this and I get up and replenish both the fire and our glasses before coming to sit on the rug at his side and opening not the tapestry but what feels like a book.

The volume is bound in blue leather with gold lettering and a parchment is attached with my name on it so I open it and read the words aloud so that we might share them together.

Greetings from the garden of Gondor, fair Ithilien, land of the moon and home of the Steward of Gondor.

Dear Lord Legolas,  
I was so pleased to hear from your father about his and Lady Vonild’s plans for a surprise for you and Lord Gimli, and greatly honored that my family were being asked to contribute to it.

My parents spent many happy hours recounting stories of the days when you were both setting up your demesne here in Ithilien. Father and mother at Emyn Arnen and you at Eryn gîl Ithil. They were amongst the most popular stories that my sisters and I ever requested when we sat with my lord father and lady mother in the evenings so you may imagine how pleased we were when we were sorting through my late father’s library to come across his journal of those happy years at the beginning of the Fourth Age when the elves came to Ithilien and brought life and light back to our lands.

Both my father and mother had written in the journal, and there were maps, drawings and illustrations done in the borders, and it seemed to me that a copy of the journal would bring back many happy memories for you as well as it did for me and my family.

I hope when you read the journal you too will recall the joyful days you and my parents spent together, and know that they loved you as a brother.

I trust that you and Lord Gimli are contented in your new homeland. I see every day the effects of your healing upon our land, and the beauty that you encouraged so I am certain that it will not be long before your new home will become a similar haven for nature and a place of both laughter and comfort for you.

With every best wish for your future happiness and grateful thanks for all you did here in Ithilien

Yours Respectfully

Elboron, Steward of Gondor, son of Prince Faramir and Lady Eowyn

 

“Well now that is a very pretty letter,” Gimli nods “he has his father’s way with words and if he is half the steward Faramir proved to be, Gondor remains in good hands. Are ye not going to open it lamb?”

I do so, opening a page at random and seeing an illustration of the caves of Henneth Annûn, looking out from the waterfall that gave the cave system its name. On the page opposite is a dated entry that had been written by Faramir himself, of the time we spent two nights trapped within the caves because of a heavy rainstorm, which made travel impossible.

While we were contented enough, we were both in disgrace on our return to Emyn Arnen. For we were meant to have been hosting a house party for guests from both Gondor and Rohan and our absence meant that the main burden for doing so had fallen on the shoulders of Lady Eowyn. We were left in no doubt as to the gravity of our failings as hosts and ‘mere males’ by the lady of Emyn Arnen.  
Eowyn had a caustic tongue when she chose to make use of it. Fortunately she forgave us when she learned we had brought down a wild boar, which would make an excellent centre piece for the farewell feast, so all was well.

 

Gimli laughs delightedly as I come to the end of the entry/

“Faramir took on a feisty lady that was for certain,” He chuckles, “I wish I had been there to see the pair of ye being scolded like schoolboys.”

“And I am equally glad that you were not.” I respond, “I loved Eowyn as a sister but she terrified me sometimes.”

“Ah well that is true of any female, lad. I think we will have many a happy hour ourselves reading and recalling those early days of yours when you were setting up your home under the beeches. But put it aside for now for I am intrigued as to what your other parcel from Ithilien is.”

Taking the hint, I place the book on a nearby table, knowing as Gimli has already said we will spend many hours reading and talking over our life in the Land of the Moon during the next few weeks and months and beyond. It was a lovely gift and one that will be treasured for many ages to come.

Now I pick up the rolled tapestry, and untie the cord letting the material roll out across the floor.  
We both gasp as we see what the subject is. It is the house in Eryn gîl Ithil, windows open to the breeze, pinpoints of light coming out to illuminate the garden and grounds. Tall beech trees surround the buildings, with the telain of my folks high in their branches. The scene is flooded with the light of the moon giving the whole picture an otherworldly feel to it. Flowers, birds, insects and animals all native to the area are all lovingly depicted around the edge of the tapestry, interspersed with the nine silver and green ivy leaves that was the sigil of my house there.

It is beautiful, and must have taken a great deal of time to make and I can find no words to say about it. So I just sit and admire it, running my fingers over the stitches and remembering the day Lady Vonild came to see the just finished house with my father to give it her approval.

“It is just as I remember it,” I finally choke out.

“Aye a true piece of craftsmanship of the highest order, laddie. They could not have given you anything more appropriate, for I reckon there is love and gratitude for all ye did for them in every stitch. And dinna say you abandoned them, for they knew how hard ye struggled and how much it took out of ye to stay as long as ye did and we don’t want to end this night with an argument or something more now do we? Especially over something so foolish.”

I give a somewhat shaky laugh at this ‘threat’, “Indeed not, elvellon.”

“Good lad!”

Gimli grips my shoulder and I feel the strength of his love and comfort surrounding me as it so often does when I doubt myself, and I allow my guilt to slip away for now, as I admire the beautiful tapestry. “I feel as if I could step into it and be back in Ithilien.” I tell him.

“It fair takes the breath away,” he agrees, “and it will look very well on the wall above the fireplace in your bedchamber. Of course ye will have to make a frame for it first, something that will match its beauty. That should keep ye out of mischief for a day or two another thing I am grateful to your folk for.”

I try to assume a disgruntled expression at this comment, but I fail miserably for I see his dark eyes twinkling and I have to laugh instead and agree that it should indeed.

As Gimli locks the chest again and I carefully place the tapestry and journal on the table I wonder what we will find next in this wonderful box of treasures we have been gifted with.

 

XXXX

 

“I was just wondering which of the gifts we should open next.” Legolas tells me when I question him about what he is thinking about.

I recognize that the words are just an attempt to prevent me from seeing that he is feeling more than a little uneasy about the memories that the gifts from Rohan have evoked, but there are times it is better just to accept things at face value rather than insisting on the truth. The sooner we move on to a new thought the better, so I am very happy to see the next packages he chooses are from Ithilien and contain a lovely letter from Faramir’s son, Elboron. The letter informs him that the included journal has been written both by Faramir himself and his wife Lady Eowyn. We have a good laugh at the entry he chooses to read recalling that the Lady could have a scathing tongue when she chose to use it. It will be a pleasure to read through the journal when we have the time, but we are both anxious to see what is inside the other package.

It turns out to be a beautifully stitched tapestry from the elves of Ithilien. For a moment I am afraid that this will bring out more unpleasant thoughts, for Legolas cannot seem to let go of the foolish idea that he should have been able to endure longer and not given into the sea longing, despite the fact that he fought it for over one hundred years before giving in to the call. Every elf in Ithilien knew that he sacrificed his own health and risked soundness of mind to stay with them and not one was sorry that he finally gave in and made the choice he did, though they hated to see him go. By the end it wasn’t even a choice; it was sail or certain madness and death. I will not tolerate his berating himself over something that was not under his control. I know a person cannot command the secret thoughts of another and yet that is exactly what I do. I remind him that saying or even thinking such nonsense will mean answering to me for it. I am no mind reader, but I know him so well that there are times when he is convinced otherwise, so instead of risking it, he turns his thoughts in a new direction. I can tell this because I feel the tension release from the shoulder that is under my hand, and the topic changes to what sort of frame would be fitting for such a grand tapestry. It is a good project for my restless elfling to work on, on days that he cannot get out of the house.

We talk much later into the night than usual, both of us knowing why, but neither of us acknowledging the reason. Legolas has been prone to nightmares in the last few years, something that was not eased when we arrived on the lonely isle. If anything, it got worse for a while for his despair over leaving Middle Earth was intense. The memories awakened by tonight’s gifts, especially the one from Rohan are enough to trigger such dark dreams, though things have improved a great deal recently. I, of course, worry over him for I have seen him through so many difficulties that I cannot stand the thought of seeing him suffer anymore, not even so much as a bad dream. Still staying up all night isn’t an option either, so finally I point out how late it has become.

“Take the tapestry with you, Lad, but the carving from Rohan would look well in the downstairs hallway, don’t’ you think?” The downstairs hallway is a place he visits from time to time but only very occasionally and it is never a place to linger. It is an exquisite carving, but his bedchamber is no place to keep it. Seeing it will not induce the peaceful reflection helpful to good sleeping habits.

He quickly agrees that it would, and so we head upstairs, leaving the carving behind for now. We part at the door of his bedchamber, but I cannot resist going across to him a few minutes later to make sure he is resting well. I find him dressed for sleep but sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed perusing the journal gifted to him by Elboron.

“Ye’ve worked all day outside in the cold and it is near morning as it is,” I tell him. There was a time when such a reminder would earn me a scowl, but now he only gives me a tolerant smile.

“I am quite capable of going without sleep for one night, Elvellon.” He reminds me.

“Of course ye are, Lad, when it is needful, but tonight it is not. The journal will keep for another time, so close it and get to bed.”

He sighs deeply, but obediently closes the book, sets it aside and crawls beneath the covers, knowing I have no intention of leaving until he does so. I sit beside him and reach out to lift his chin so I can look deep into his eyes to make certain I have his attention.

“If ye have trouble sleeping, ye are not to attempt to handle it alone,” I say. “I am only just next door, so I want ye to come to me, Lamb.”

“I have bothered you for too many nights already,” he argues. “I should be able to manage a night terror on my own by now without disturbing your rest. After all I am a trained warrior, not a child.”

I cannot help laughing a bit for it is the same point he has been trying to make for as long as I’ve known him, but this time I beg to differ.

“The truth is you were both at one time, but we have no need for warriors in this blessed realm. I for one am very thankful for that for we’ve both seen enough of war, and ye’ve had far too much responsibility placed on your shoulders for someone of tender years.”

He looks at me askance as if I have taken leave of my senses. Obviously he had never thought of himself as having been overburdened and had no idea that I felt this way.

“Look at young Tàras, for example,” I point out. “I’d wager he’s not more than a hundred years younger, and he’s only just now been apprenticed for the first time. Ye’ve had to grow up earlier than is natural and have done so beautifully, but the point is, it is perfectly normal to desire comfort from dark dreams and I would rather provide it than worry over you struggling alone. Do it to please me if for no other reason, Lamb”

“All right,” he agrees, before leaning forward to receive the kiss I place on his forehead. “Sleep well, Gimli.”

“Now that ye’ve promised me, I will,” I say.


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning dawns cold and dreary once again, but we manage to rattle around the place finding things to do until evening. Going through the trunks has become the highlight of these winter days and tonight is no exception. We make a small pretense of sipping tea for a few minutes before getting to what we’ve both been thinking about all day. I hand the key over to Legolas, who unlocks the trunk and hands me a rolled parchment with my name on it. Right away I recognize the seal as being from Aglarond, and the hand as that of my nephew. We exchange amused looks and he settles in, in eager anticipation. A letter from Greirr is sure to prove to be entertaining at the very least.

I break the seal and to my surprise something falls from the center. It is a smaller rolled parchment, this one sealed with four separate seals as if the writer of the letter did not really wish it to be read. I am baffled, but am sure Greirr’s letter will explain. I begin reading it out loud.

Dear Uncle,  
Greetings from the Glittering Caves  
By now you will be well settled into your new home and hopefully enjoying a peaceful life across the sea. I must admit that I never really believed Grandmother Vonild was right about the fact that you would eventually make the trip, but as in most cases I should have listened to her. Before she died, she was after me to come up with a memento to send and I promised to do so, though I never expected to have to actually do it. When I learned that you really were to sail, I had to eat my words and scramble to come up with something to send to King Thranduil, for I would not like to meet Lady Vonild in the next world someday having not followed her orders.

It was then that I thought to myself, “What would I miss the most if I were to move away from my homeland and my people?” That is when the idea came to me.

Now Uncle, I know you have been in great battles; that you followed the Ring bearer and even marched on the Black Gate itself, but that will pale in comparison to the brave and daring deed I have done for you to obtain this gift. You will only be able to imagine the courage it took and what I had to go through to achieve it, for I have not the proper words to describe the experience. If you are not sitting down already, I would request that you do so before you read on for I am about to reveal what I have sent you and I would not like to be responsible were you to become lightheaded and fall.

It is the secret recipe for Mistress Brynja’s special bitter ale!

I know, I know, you must think I am jesting for I have been known to tease on occasion, but this time I swear it is true. How did I accomplish such an impossible feat? I tell you it was not easy. First I had to make the long trip to Erebor and seek an audience with Brynja’s granddaughter, Mistress Ronja, who now guards the recipe. As you know, my charms are many and I used them all on the Lady, but alas, she was unmovable, in spite of such irresistible measures as my sweet voice and winning smile. How she withstood it, I know not, but after having made the trip I was determined to get what I came for. I had to move on to harsher measures. In the end I used Ronja’s own family pride against her, by telling her that the elves of Ithilien believed the ale from Rohan to be the best in Middle Earth and had likely spread the rumor all over the Undying Lands after they sailed West.

I know you must now be shaking your head in consternation, for I well know your irrational prejudice against even the whitest of falsehoods, but before you condemn me, you have to at least consider that it MIGHT be true. Surely there was at least ONE elf in Ithilien who enjoyed the Rohirrim ale.

Anyway the point is it worked! I had to swear not to look at the recipe myself and was threatened with every sort of vile consequence if anyone in Middle Earth found it. It was quite terrifying, I tell you, but I bravely endured it just for you, dear Uncle!  
Perhaps when you drink it, you will recall the occasion of your two hundredth birthday celebration and the copious amounts of Brynja’s that was served that day!

 

At this point I look up at Legolas who is beginning to snort with suppressed laughter. No doubt he is recalling that particular celebration himself for he, along with many other friends attended it. A two hundredth birthday is an important one for a dwarf, for it is then that he or she is considered an elder and above reproach or questioning by younger folks and being the Lord of Aglarond, my celebration was even more elaborate than the usual event. Many, many friends were there all bearing gifts and good wishes. It was well into the party when most folks were feeling little pain that I was presented with a gift from a friend who had been unable to attend, but who wished to commemorate my day anyway. The King of the Wood had evidently paid an outrageous price to have dozens of barrels of Mistress Brynja’s special bitter shipped to Aglarond. The gift was meant to be given at the beginning of the affair, but through some miscommunication, it wasn’t brought out until the middle when many of the guests were already four sheets to the wind. Of course the ale still had to be consumed anyway for such a prize could not be wasted, so the level of frivolity went up several notches after that. The next day there were few residents who were not suffering the aftereffects of heavy drinking and I received more than one dirty look in spite of my new status as an elder among my people.

“You can stop your guffawing, Elfling, and pay attention, for there is still more to the letter!” I growl, though I cannot help laughing a bit myself as I continue to read.

 

You might also ask Legolas about another birthday celebration where this special brew played a part. He may recall my fortieth birthday and what happened after my coming of age celebration. Perhaps it has been long enough now that he will not mind telling the tale, though I feel I must remind you that if he is willing to tell it, it is far too late to hold it against him now! I know he will thank me for pointing that out, so tell him “you’re welcome!”

So there you go! I hope you meet with success when trying this recipe and that when you have done so you will find something to celebrate. Enjoy!

Your favorite Nephew,  
Greirr Son of Dorbryn, Lord of Aglarond

 

This time when I look up, Legolas has covered his eyes with one hand and is shaking his head. I have never heard the story of what happened after Greirr’s coming of age celebration and from the looks of things Legolas was not planning on me ever finding out. I do my best to hide my amusement and try to assume a stern demeanor.

“What exactly does this mean, Lad?” I ask.

“It means that Greirr always has been a horrible brat and growing up and having a family of his own obviously did not change that fact one bit!”

It is no good pretending to be stern, for the look on his face is too comical. I laugh out loud and then get on with breaking the four seals on the recipe. Sure enough it is there and I am happy to see that coming up with the ingredients should be an easy chore. Greirr may indeed be a brat, but he could not have come up with a gift that I would enjoy more than this one for this was one of the things I had expected never to see again. Now if I can just finagle that story out of my elfling, this will be a perfect evening.

XXXX

I have not the slightest chance of keeping the story of what happened after Greirr’s coming of age celebration from Gimli. I recognise all too well that determined look in his eyes, and it will be wasted effort on my part to try and conceal the truth for he has a way of winkling the truth out of me whether I wish it or no but I could have wished Greirr had not added that comment to his letter to his uncle.  
I always liked Greirr even when he was a mere dwarfling, and it had seemed somehow strange that I was there celebrating him reaching his majority while I remained a youth. It was not a new sensation of course for since I had come into contact with mortal kind it had happened on many occasions that those that were young to my eyes initially, raced by me in age and maturity and then outpaced me leaving me as the younger child to be ‘cared’ for but every time it happened it still stung my pride. I am still pondering this when Gimli prompts.

“Well Lamb?”

I sigh, but have the presence of mind to demand his word that he will not take umbrage at what I am about to say before I begin my story. He is in such a good mood after getting hold of the recipe for the ale that he agrees to stay his hand without too much argument. Just to be on the safe side I scoot to the other side of the fireplace and stretch out my legs so that my vulnerable parts are some way away from Gimli’s heavy hand. He just smirks and wonders why I do not trust his word, I could tell him because once he hears what happened he is likely to be very displeased but I am not that foolish. I have learned some things over the last few years.

Finally I begin my tale.

“It was very late after the official celebrations had long wound down and the family retired to bed. I found sleep difficult to come by so I chose to slip out of the apartments you had made in the Glittering Caves and wandered out onto the walls of the refuge of Helms Deep. It was very quiet and the stars were beautiful.”

“Aye I doubt it not, but I don’t need a description of Helms Deep or the Glittering Caves either. I lived there laddie!”

“I was merely setting the scene,” I sniff

“Well get on with it! You were looking at the stars, which should not surprise me I suppose. Don’t tell me Greirr was star gazing as well.”

“Well he was lying looking up at the sky when I found him, so for an elf that would immediately suggest he was looking at the stars. But his eyes were closed and we had all had a great deal of that wonderful ale and even I was feeling a little ‘fuzzy’ around the edges after imbibing so much . He might have been sleeping. I had hoped the fresh night air would clear my head so I thought perhaps Greirr had felt the same. As I approached he sat up and grinned at me; he invited me to sit with him and we spent some time talking of the celebration and how much we had enjoyed it.

 

  
But also how we both thought what a pity it was that the celebrations had ended so soon. I also saw that his eyes were not fixed on the heavens but on the tower where the horn of Helm Hammerhand was situated as his next words confirmed.  
Greirr was remembering how you had sounded the horn as we rode out to meet the host of Saruman and he said how he regretted that he had never heard the horn ring out. I agreed with him, saying what a pity it was that the horn was unlikely to sound again in our lifetimes. It was then that we looked at each other and it just seemed the obvious thing to do.”

Gimli slaps a hand to his forehead, “Never tell me that the pair of ye decided to blow Helm Hammerhand’s horn?”

I duck my head, “well I could say that but it would be an untruth.” I peek up at him through my eyelashes. “We had both over imbibed Gimli and it seemed a very sensible thing for us to be attempting. We managed to make it up to the top of the tower without being challenged, which was thinking back on it a very surprising circumstance for Elfhelm who was Marshall of the East-mark at the time was no fool. Anyway we reached the top of the tower and stepped into the room only to be stopped by a voice that demanded to know what we were about.”

“And who was it? Elfhelm himself? Aragorn?”

I shake my head, “No either of them would have been preferable to the one awaiting us. It was Lord Gloin.”

“Da?”

“Yes, it seems he had been on the watch for Greirr doing something ‘stupid’ since it was a tradition among young dwarves to finish their day with some kind of foolishness. He had seen him wander out and look up at the tower earlier in the day and instead of retiring with the rest of the family he had come out and climbed the tower and had been watching the pair of us for some time as we debated as to whether we should sound the horn or not.”

“He always was a canny one”

“So it seems” I grumble remembering the outcome of his appearance. “You can imagine that he was not best pleased with either of us as he pointed out, had we managed to sound the horn it would have meant the whole of the Hornburg would have been roused and it would have caused a great deal of consternation and distress for everyone there. He made allowance for the fact that we had been drinking but he was not prepared to let us off completely. We were both of us taken over his knee and given a total of 40 swats each to mark Greirr’s birthday. Given how hard his hand was I am only grateful he did not enquire as to my age. I might never have sat down again. It is not funny Gimli.”

My friend seems to differ in his opinion on that, for he slaps his thigh and chortles “why the wily old devil! And he never said a word of it to me about any of it.”

“He promised the pair of us that he would keep our foolishness and its outcome quiet so as not to embarrass either us or our hosts and he did so. But do you not recall Gimli, the next morning when you said that both Greirr and I looked as if we had sore heads and Lord Gloin burst into hoots of laughter and said it was not just our heads that were sore? I was certain you would pick up on his words and was very grateful when you did not. I had hoped that you would never hear of it…are you very angry?”

“Angry? Nay lad, it all happened a long time ago and I am sure Gloin made it clear to you at the time that such foolishness would not be tolerated again. I recall from my own youth how heavy a hand he had so I can sympathize with what you went through on that night. But despite that he was the very best of fathers.”

“He was,” I agree “We have both been very fortunate in our parents. I am still very fortunate elvellon.”

Gimli’s eyes are glistening with unshed tears so I seek to lighten the mood a little as I pluck the recipe for the ale from his hand and peruse it, grinning up at him and saying “do we start the brewing process tonight or will you wait until tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is early enough Lamb. Tonight I will just enjoy your company for a while longer before I seek my bed.”

I lock the chest and hand the key back to Gimli, already wondering what we will find tomorrow evening.


	9. Chapter 9

 

As it happens the day is full, for the snow has finally relented and when I go out to the stables to help with the horses I find my head groom in one of the stable blocks I had previously not visited and inside is a beautiful sleigh with full harness, a gift from Lady Galadriel. Of course I have to try it out and also I have to inveigle Gimli into joining me for a short time at least as I try out the paces of the horses and also the sleigh itself. We have a delightful morning, and getting outside even for a short time I think did us both good, and we returned with sharp appetites.

In the afternoon as the short ours of daylight faded, I began to work on a frame for the tapestry while Gimli drew plans for a glass cabinet in which to display Mam’s bracelet. It was a good day, one filled with laughter and a sense of achievement for both of us, so that by the time we reached the evening and our time to open a new gift we were both comfortably tired. Almost I suggest that we put off until tomorrow night seeing what was in the chest but curiosity is one of my abiding sins so I take the key and turn the lock.

One of the things that has perplexed me is that the chest never seems to empty. Each night there is another wrapped gift. I stare into the depths of the chest and find another present, which I swear was not there the night before when I last looked.

I look up at Gimli and open my mouth to say something and see his knowing grin.

“Gimli, how do all these gifts appear here? For they were not here before and do not tell me it is magic. It isn’t is it?”

“No lamb, not magic. I have been adding new items to the chest each day, because there were just too many presents to fit them all in one, and no before you ask I have not ‘peeked’. I have just taken them out as they were initially packed. So, I suggest ye open the next one unless ye want me to keep the rest of them under lock and key for the next few years.”

Such a threat is too much for me so I hurriedly open the next wrapping. This one is in the colours of Imladris and for a moment I just let my fingers run through the rich velvet, remembering the many happy years I spent with the twins and Arwen and all the other denizens of the Last Homely House.”

“Well open it up lad.”

I hesitate thinking I might tease him a little in return for his trickery with the gifts but a tweak on my ear decides me and I untie the ribbons to see a large silver dinner plate. Immediately I am transported back to many yeni before and my first visit to Imladris. I was very young and it was my first time away from home and also away from my Adar who had gone to a meeting of the White Council with Lord Elrond.  
I had been left in Imladris in the care of Lord Erestor, Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen and while they tried very hard to make me welcome I was home sick and desperately wanting Ada.

Gimli smiles, “I can see this means something special to ye laddie. Would you like to share or is it something you want to keep to yourself?”

I laugh because I have few secrets from my dwarf and I certainly do not wish to keep this story from him.

“Nay, Gimli I am happy to share.”

I explain about my first visit and my homesickness, “Adar had only taken me with him because I did not want to stay at home alone. He was hoping I would enjoy being with other young elves and start to socialize a little. But as soon as he and Lord Elrond rode out of the courtyard I felt completely bereft and started wailing like a banshee.

I know I spent most of the first few days crying and refusing to be comforted. Arwen was so kind. She would sit with me at night and sing to me to help me find sleep. The twins did their best to fill my daylight hours with activities, riding, swimming, and climbing trees-whatever they could come up with to keep me occupied and too busy to think. I must have been a real trial to them yet they never complained, and I was so much younger than them it must have been very frustrating to have me always following them around asking when Ada was coming back and why Imladris was not like Greenwood. I am surprised they did not throw me over the largest waterfall and be done with me.”

“”From what I have seen the three of them love ye like a brother and they are their father’s children, kind and compassionate. It must have been lonely for ye growing up as ye did without playmates, and without a mother. It is no wonder they took to you and cared as they did. Elves it seems to me love all young ones.”

“We do. I suppose it is because there are so few elflings born, that we treasure all children of whatever race. I certainly must have tried everyone’s patience at Imladris…well I know I did. Had I been at home or my father or tutor been present I would have been swiftly brought to my senses, for such conduct was hardly appropriate even given my young age. But fortunately for my poor backside Ressor came up with another solution, one that appealed to my sense of duty as heir to the House of Oropher.

In the lessons I had with him, he took care to tell me stories of princes and lords, and how important it was to their homelands that they represented their people properly, I drank it all in, enjoying the tales and never once realizing that Erestor was very carefully setting me up.

He then got the twins to let me overhear them wondering why the feast that was usually held when visitors from other elven realms were present was not to be held.  
They came up with a variety of reasons. I was too young, too unhappy, and of course not ready or able to represent Greenwood the Great.

You can imagine how I reacted. I stomped off to see Ressor and informed him that I was none of those things and that I was quite capable of representing my Adar and the folk of the Wood, thank you very much!

In return he said that before he would consider changing his mind, I had to show him that I was indeed ready for such responsibility. In attempting to do so of course I forgot all about feeling sorry for myself and actually began to enjoy my stay.”

“I always thought Master Erestor was a shrewd one,” Gimli comments admiringly, “I suppose acting as tutor to that pair of mischief makers Elladan and Elrohir must have made getting you to cooperate seem simple.”

“No doubt. I all but fell over myself trying to prove that I could represent my father and the Wood and never once saw through his machinations. I even agreed to wear formal clothes to the feast and a circlet, both of which I cordially disliked at the time.”

“Ye have not changed that much in the intervening years as far as that prejudice is concerned.” Gimli informs me.

I decide it is best to ignore such provocation and continue my tale, “eventually Ressor ‘agreed’ to rethink his decision and the feast took place. Everyone dressed up, the candles were lit and the best china and glassware graced the tables.”

“And this plate was part of the dinner service that was used that night.”

“It was, especially chosen because of the decorated border of entwined leaves. I was so proud Gimli. I sat at the high table with Erestor and the twins and Arwen. It was a magical evening and one I could not wait to tell Ada about when he returned. This plate brings back many happy memories of that time. I am so pleased to have it here to remind me of that night and the kindness of everyone in Imladris.”

“Well now that is a relief,” Gimli tells me, “For there are several boxes full of this service waiting collection in Lord Elrond’s cellars for it was not just the plate that was sent as a memento but the whole set. Here is the letter that accompanied it. I was told not to give it to you until I was sure you were happy with the idea of having such a memory around.”

I suspect I am sitting here with my mouth hanging open a suspicion that is confirmed when Gimli reaches across and closes it for me with one finger before handing me the parchment closed with the sigil of the Lord of Imladris.

When I open it I see it is from both Elladan and Elrohir.

_Dearest Las,_   
_When you read this you will have travelled the straight road and be in the furthermost west and we are sure that Gimli will also be with you and enjoying his new adventure, for he always did like a challenge._

_As for you we trust that you are not moping and wishing you were still here on Arda. Even the hardiest of souls needs to know when to admit that they cannot go on as they are, and you were fading so fast we could almost see right through you._   
_Do not deny it little leaf we have known you long enough to recognise how ill you had become and while we mourn being parted from you we know that you will find healing._

_Adar will no doubt have got his claws into you by now and threatened you with all kinds of potions and tonics. Do what we always did when given: them smile and then pour it into the nearest plant pot._

_Do not try the same sort of thing on Ressor though for he will see straight through you. He always has been able to read you like a book even when you were very young, but enough of that, onto the main reason for this letter._

_We hope that our gift will prove to be popular with you, and perhaps even of some use when you begin to entertain friends and family in your new home._   
_When your father wrote to ask us to contribute to the memory chest we thought long and hard over what would be appropriate._

_I (Dan) suggested the bow you used as an elfling when you visited and accidentally managed to shoot Glorfindel in the leg, but I thought that might not be a good idea given what happened when Glorfy recovered._

_Whereas I (Roh) thought we ought to send a crate full of that special salve we concocted to help ease our blistered rear ends, because although you may be beyond Thranduil’s hand presently if Gimli is nearby you will be bound to need it sometime soon._

_In the end it was Glorfindel that came up with the idea of sending the plate as a reminder of your first visit to us, and between us Roh and I decided we would send the whole dinner service. There were two reasons for that because despite your reluctance to take part in formal entertainments you will have to act as your father’s representative on the island so you will have to entertain all the good and mighty of the Noldor, Sindar and Vanyar at some time._   
_You may guess that we are laughing at the disgusted expression that is probably gracing your face even now. Brace up Las it will not be as bad as you think. It never is._

_The second reason is that since Adar’s departure we have lost more and more elves to the west every day. Even when Daeradar Celeborn came here with the Galadhrim we still rattle about the valley like lost souls and parts of the house are already falling into disuse._

_We none of us wish to stay here and see the whole place fall in around our ears and we have just recently been offered an alternative home._

_Your beloved father has written to us to suggest that we combine what remains of the three realms and that we make our home in Eryn Lasgalen. You know how empty the house was when Adar and Ressor left. With the death of Estel and Arwen things became worse and once you had to leave us as well, well we decided that enough was enough. We know Glorfindel and Daerada would like to be actively involved in the running of what is the most vibrant of elven realms left in Arda so they are keen to move as well. We hope you do not mind us moving in with your Ada we are sure you will not for you have always had a generous nature._

_Anyway once we began packing up most of the household effects to send them to the Havens it seemed a perfect time for us to send you this gift as well._

_Enjoy your new life Las and do not fall into despair_

_Our gift is sent with love and as a promise that one day soon we may all sit down together use those plates and talk of old times, because we will see each other again do not doubt it._

_Elladan and Elrohir_

_Oh and Glorfy sends his love as well!_

_ _

 

As I come to the end of the letter I realize I am both laughing and crying at the same time.

“You do not mind about the twins going to your father?”

I do not have to think about that for very long for I know it will be good for everyone concerned and if I suffer a slight pang at not being there with them I soon push that to the back of my mind.

“No I think it is an excellent idea. Ada will be kept busy keeping that pair out of mischief and he will enjoy having the company of his cousin and Glorfindel. And we have a lovely dinner service, and a promise of seeing them all again sometime in the future.  
We could drive over tomorrow in the sleigh and get the rest of it, and then we can perhaps devise some kind of display cabinet for it for when it is not in use. ”

“At this rate we will have enough projects to keep us going all winter long.” Gimli grumbles but I know he is not serious and as I carefully place the plate on a side table I grin and say,

“It very much depends what else we find in that magic trunk of yours Elvellon. If you would just let me peek at the next few items …”

He slams the top of the chest down and makes great play of locking and secreting the key in his belt pouch and announces it is time we were abed as we will have a long journey tomorrow to collect the china. How fortunate I am in my friends and most of all in having Gimli Gloinson here with me. I will have to try and find some way of showing him how grateful I am. For tonight I let him haul me to my feet and hustle me out into the hall, informing me that we will be going nowhere tomorrow if there is any more snow, I hope that is not the case for I intend to teach Gimli how to handle the sleigh tomorrow I am certain he will enjoy it!

 

xxxx


	10. Chapter 10

I stand looking out the large windows of the main entrance hallway at the fresh blanket of snow that covers the ground. It is so early that the snow remains unspoiled of footprints for no one has yet set foot outside to mar it. The sky is cloudless and blue and the bright sunshine causes the snow to glitter like thousands of crystals. Beside me my anxious charge watches me watching the snow, for he well knows that I have already said we would not travel today if we received further bad weather. We made tentative plans last night to make a trip to New Imladris today to pick up the rest of the dinner service sent to Legolas by the twin sons of Elrond. It is not as if there is a big hurry to do so since we are unlikely to receive dinner guests any time before the house is complete and ready for such an event. No it is not need for dishes that makes him want to go so badly, but the need to be outside in the sunshine and doing something interesting and the prospect of making a trip in the new sleigh gifted to us by the Lady Galadriel is almost too much for him to resist. As ever I do not like to disappoint him and yet I have no desire to become caught outside in the elements in a snow drift either. When I do not say anything for several minutes, he speaks up.

“It’s a beautiful day today, Elvellon without a cloud in the sky. It looks like the weather will hold until sunset at least.”

“That is so,” I agree, “but we must have gotten quite a storm last night as deep as the snow is this morning.”

“True, but it will be a piece of cake for the horses and the sleigh is designed for just such conditions.” He tells me.

“It looks cold.” I point out.

“Not so cold,” he says. “Besides you have that new fur cloak and we’ll go so fast we won’t have time to get cold.”

“Still I am not sure we should risk it, Lad.”

“All right Gimli, but before you decide I have to tell you one more thing.” He looks at me slyly. “I am almost certain the kitchen at New Imladris have the black malt you need.”

I laugh at that for he knows I was disappointed to find that we had all the ingredients we needed to brew the ale except for the black malt. I had always assumed the deep color of Mistress Brynja’s ale came from roasted barley, but after a second look at the recipe found I would also need black patent malt, one of the few things that wasn’t stocked in our overflowing pantry.

“Ye spent a lot of time inspecting the pantries at New Imladris, did ye? I hadn’t noticed a lot of bitter ale being brewed by the elves there myself. Did I miss something?”

“Well no,” he admits, “but they might have made it for the hobbits when they were in residence, just like the pipeweed they still cultivate.”  
He looks at me so appealingly and hopefully, that I know there is no way we are staying home today. It may be a sign of weakness, but it is beyond my power to deny him anything he desires if it is within my power to give it. He knows this of course and is not too proud to take advantage of the fact from time to time. “We haven’t been anywhere further than the stables for days, Gimli. Please.” This accompanied by saucer eyes and an angelic smile, and of course I am lost. For form’s sake, I pretend to think about it a moment longer before giving in.

“Very well, I suppose it’s either that or watch you sulk the rest of the day,” I tease. “But if it becomes difficult driving, we’ll be coming straight back without arguing about it.”

“Agreed.”

“And ye’ll dress warmly as well,” I tell him. “No gadding about cloakless as if is the middle of summer.”

“Of course,” he agrees again.

“Then what are we waiting for, Lamb? Let’s get on with it, the day is wasting.”

He hurries to bring my gloves and fur lined cloak, along with his own cloak and then we trek out to the stables to hitch a pair of horses to the new sleigh. They horses seem as eager as my elfling to be away, though they stand patiently as we climb aboard the sleigh. Legolas surprises me by handing me the reins and telling me he wants to teach me to drive. Now I have driven ponies pulling carts or wagons, but I’ve never driven a team of horses and certainly not guided a sleigh. Any hauling that needed to be done in wintertime was always done by pack animal.

“What need have I to drive, Lad? That’s what I have you for.” I remind him.

“What if you need to travel when I’m not around?” he asks.

“Are ye planning on leaving me?” I growl causing him to sigh and roll his eyes.

“Of course not, Gimli, but it will be fun.”

His idea of fun and mine do not always match up. Never have I seen or heard of a dwarf driving a team of horses pulling a sleigh and so I tell him, but he is unimpressed.

“Dwarfs don’t ride horses, but you can,” he points out. “They don’t sleep in trees or swim, but you have. They don’t bring elves home to meet their mother, they don’t dress human kings for their coronation, they don’t have hobbit children calling them ‘uncle’, they don’t pass family heirlooms to adopted elven sons, they don’t travel by water, they don’t speak fluent Sindarin, they don’t live with a colony of elves, they don’t take ship and travel the straight road to live in the undying lands, they don’t work in the forges of the Valar, they don’t…”

By the time he has ticked off the tenth point, I can no longer keep from chuckling. He is right of course. Like my mother, I have never been one to be stopped from doing something because of convention. Besides the eyes are beginning to grow large again so what is the point in fighting?

“All right, all right, ye’ve made your point, Lad.” I say.

“Face it Elvellon. You are no common dwarf,” he smiles.

“Just hand over the damn reins, Elfling, and tell me what to do,” I demand. “And ye’d better hope they have that black malt when we get there!”

As it turns out, driving the sleigh is a good deal easier than I had expected and admittedly it is quite fun just as the Lad promised. The horse’s mouths are more sensitive than a pony’s mouth, so just the slightest pull of the reins guides them where we wish to go. I only need to remember where the road is so we don’t fall through where the snow sits on top of long grass or deep craters that are difficult to detect under the blanket of snow.  
By the time we reach New Imladris, we are both windblown and laughing for I have gotten the hang of it so well that I am able to drive at speeds fast enough even to please my elfling.

We are warmly welcomed by our former hosts and spend the day catching up on the news and goings on that have taken place since we moved out. Fortunately black malt is among the many items in the New Imladris pantry, so I should be able to make a start on brewing the ale very soon. By the time we have loaded the sleigh, driven home, unloaded again and taken care of the horses and sleigh it has become quite late, but I still decide to begin steeping the black malted barley and hops to begin the brewing process of the ale. This first step takes about forty hours according to Mistress Brynja’s instructions and the sooner I begin, the sooner we will be sampling the results and that cannot be soon enough as far as I’m concerned.

What this means, though, is that by the time we have done everything that needs doing, we are getting a very late start on our nightly ritual of opening the trunk. Legolas quickly points out that my ‘rules’ regarding the opening of the gifts did not include skipping nights in order to make ale that he doesn’t even care for that much.  
I point out that he liked it well enough to consume it to the point that ringing Helm Hammerhand’s horn seemed a good idea but in spite of this he insists that we open the trunk tonight no matter how late it has become. I let myself be persuaded easily since I am rather curious myself and we soon find ourselves in our familiar place in front of the fire.

The package Legolas hands me looks very familiar and when I open it, I see it is a tapestry of the same size and shape as the tapestry of the house in Ithilien. What I unfold nearly takes my breath away with its spectacular beauty for it is an exact replica of the first cavern of Aglarond as it looked when last I saw it. It brings to mind the very first time I ever saw the caves for truthfully there was very little needed to do to enhance the natural beauty that was already there. Years of carefully opening and lighting the caverns was all that was needed to show them off to their best effect. Looking at this tapestry now it is amazing that the artists were able to capture such a perfect likeness. The silk stitches are so tiny and delicate that they look more like the stroke of a paintbrush than stitching and crystals and jewels have been carefully attached to represent the ore laden walls of the caverns. When I hold it up to the lamplight, it comes spectacularly to sparkling life, just as the cave itself did when lanterns were added in just the right places. I am unsure as to where this gift comes from, for it is clearly meant to match the other tapestry that was made by the elves of Ithilien, and yet the jewel work is undoubtedly the work of artisans from Aglarond. In fact when I inspect it closely, I can see that some of the inlaid crystal work has been done by my own sister whose work I would recognize anywhere. It is something she became quite skilled at in her years as an elder among our people. After her husband, Thorûr took his rest, Dorbryn divided her time between fancy work such as this and spoiling her grandson, though she did travel on occasion as well, something that was unheard of for females before our mother single handedly changed dwarven society. Fortunately the enclosed letter written by my sister explains everything.

Dear Gimli,  
By now it has become apparent that your future lies in accompanying Legolas into the West, though you have never said as much to me or to anyone else that I am aware of. You do not need to say it, for it is now obvious to all of us who know you both. When you left Aglarond five years ago I believed it was to convince the elfling that he must take ship, but I realize now there is more to it than that. On my last visit to Ithilien even I could see that he has waited too long and will not be able to make it alone. While I do not like to see him suffer any more than you do, perhaps it is all for the best. Were he able to leave without you and were you able to convince him to do so, I believe the parting might be more than you could bear and your worry over him too great to endure for long. So though I do not like to see you leave, it is preferable to seeing you parted from the child. I know you love him as I do my own son and were I in your shoes I would do the same, so know that the rest of your family understands completely your desire to go, though we will miss you both.  
That brings me to the real reason for this letter and that is to explain about the enclosed gifts of the two tapestries. Both the tapestry of Eryn gîl Ithil and the one of the Glittering Caves are combined efforts from the elves of Ithilien and the dwarves of Aglarond. They are meant to go together for we all realize both places were ‘home’ to the two of you. Many hands created and crafted the two designs so I will not mention specific names involved, though most of the stitching was done in Ithilien and the crystal and gem work in Aglarond. If you have a keen eye you might recognize who the specific artists were, but that is all I will say about that. The important thing to remember is that you must do all you can to find as much joy and happiness in your new home as you did in the ones you left behind. That is the greatest wish of all the loyal subjects of both realms and specifically of your fond sister and friend.  
Much Love,  
Dorbryn

 

I hand the letter to Legolas to read and take another close look at the exquisite tapestry, thinking about the many kind thoughts that have been worked into every stitch and tiny gem. I can only imagine the number of hours it took to design and make such a work of art and when I look closely I can see the specific work of individuals and wonder at how so many folks from two separate realms were able to work together to produce something so perfect in harmony and composition. It is a miracle of sorts when I think about the distrust that has been prevalent between the elves and the dwarves for so many years. This tapestry alone is proof that such things can be overcome.  
The letter sent with the gift was a strong reminder of my decision over ten years ago to give up the Lordship of Aglarond over to my nephew and make a permanent move to Ithilien to help to care for my then ailing elfling. This action was in response to a desperate letter I received from Legolas’ long time seneschal Lord Lithion who very frankly informed me that he feared for the child’s life if he didn’t make the inevitable decision very soon. He believed that Legolas might listen to my advice more than anyone else’s, for I had a certain way of getting him to see sense. Lithion did not ask me to give up my home of course, he only asked if I could come for an extended stay, but I knew what he meant. I would come and see things through to the end, whatever that end might be.  
At first I was determined that I would just put my foot down and make him sail whether he liked it or not. After all it would hardly be the first time I had used my authority over him to make him do something he didn’t want to do. It was hardly the same as insisting on a cloak in cold weather or forcing him to stay in bed to nurse an injury, but I was still sure I could do it, though it would be dreadful to see him leave. Still I knew it was for his own good and that was my main concern as it always has been. I soon found out how wrong I could be.  
I hadn’t been there a week when I realized it was no longer a matter of wills, but a matter of ability. I have never told the lad so, but I knew at that time he could not have made the journey on his own for, as Dorbryn said in her letter, he had already left it too late. Elves who hear the call of the sea are meant to heed it, but I have in my charge possibly the most stubborn elf ever born on Arda and so over one hundred years after hearing the call he still obstinately remained. Only by then he could barely braid his own hair, let alone sail by himself so I changed my plan.

Instead of putting my energy into nagging him to sail, I focused on making sure he cared for himself physically, insisting on a stringent regimen of healthy eating and plenty of time for rest, something that has continued since our arrival on Tol Eressëa and something that has given me the reputation of being of a clucking hen, though such names do not worry me. The time may come when this is no longer needed, but it has worked well so far so I see no reason to change something that seems to be working. Just as I still do, I also tried to keep him happy and entertained back then, with as few worries as possible. All the while I made my secret plans to travel the straight road with him, risky though I knew it was. My goal was to see him in as good a shape as possible for our trip for I feared if we left too soon he would not make it even if I were to go with him, he had become so weak. It took a long time before I felt he was ready to face the idea, and even longer to get him to agree to it, but eventually he saw sense and I had my way. Even as we started out I feared I had made a grave error and he would succumb before we arrived, but now as I watch him admiring the beautiful tapestry made by those who loved us, I know it was all worth it. I hope the citizens of Ithilien and those from Aglarond have some way of knowing that things finally worked out for the best; better even than I had hoped. As the letter mentioned, that is all they ever wanted for the two of us and I suspect many years of admiring those wonderful tapestries will remind me of that fact.

XXXX

I am so pleased that Gimli has also been gifted with a tapestry his depicts Aglarond. Like mine it is a master piece of artistry and a wonderful reminder to us both of our homes back on Arda. Strangely while I still feel the pang of parting from those I loved I find I can now look at these tapestries and enjoy them without wishing I were back there. Perhaps I am finally beginning to see this new place as my home. If that is the case then it is due in very large measure to the presence of Gimli son of Gloin I have so much to thank him for, save of course when I try he brushes off my praise harrumphing in that self-conscious way of his and calling me a fool of an elf. Somehow I will have to find a way of showing him how grateful I am without embarrassing him too much. Maybe if I can come up with some way of showing off the tapestries so that the gems and stones are always seen to their best advantage. I will have to think about it some more maybe I could use mirrors …

For now I sit back and watch as Gimli reads Dorbryn’s letter again and I can see he is remembering when he last saw her and Greirr and I feel I have to say something. “I am sure they know that we are safe and beginning to make a new life for ourselves here.”

“I hope so Lamb. It would be good to think so anyway.”

He sits back and stares into the fire for a moment or two before turning to me and I wonder if perhaps I have done something to upset him in some way.

“Gimli have I done something wrong?”

He is swift to reassure me, “Nay laddie, at least not as far as I know. Ye haven’t have ye?”

“No, I swear.”

“Good,” he pauses then continues, “I have something to tell ye however. Tomorrow will be the last night that we open up the trunk.”

“Oh!” I can see he is worried how I will take this news. I admit to being disappointed but hardly surprised for I cannot expect the gifts to go on forever and we have already had so many lovely mementoes from Arda it would be wrong to want more.

“I will miss our evening ritual” I tell him, “But we will still have all the lovely gifts that Mam and Ada organized for us and plenty to fill our time over the winter months, and we will also be able to share our mementoes with our friends here. I am sure that Elrond and the others will wish to see them and have their own stories and reminisces to share with us in return. “

“Aye that is true enough. Ye are not too upset then?”

“It would be very selfish of me to be so.” I assure him, “Our friends have been very generous and while I admit to being sorry we will not have any more evenings like this one I am sure we will be able to come up with other ways to fill our time. I was thinking perhaps we could read to each other in the evenings, I always used to enjoy that in the winter in the Greenwood.”

“Now that is an excellent plan laddie, and if ye might like it we could also work on your Khuzdul?”

“I would like that very much, and during the day when the weather allows we can continue with your driving lessons.”

“Well since it seems we will have plenty to keep us busy I suggest we get to our beds tonight and tomorrow evening we will open the final gifts, including the one your father insisted I keep till last.”

 

With that treat to come I find it hard to concentrate during the next day and find myself willing the night to come so I can see what is that Ada has sent. I feel like an elfling on Yule night as Gimli opens the chest for the last time.

“Before ye peek lad, I have to tell you, that the first set of gifts should have come to ye on the first night not the last, but I decided to keep them back, because I was worried about the effect they might have on you they are such personal items I wanted to wait until I thought you were ready. “

Once again I am reminded of how much care Gimli takes of me, he is right of course on that first night it would have been too much.

“Thank you,” I say simply.

Gimli lifts out a wicker basket and when I take off the lid I see there are numerous wrapped packages. I laugh as I open the first one and find the very first bow I owned. Ada made it for me when I was very young and I was so proud of it. I show it to Gimli explaining how I used to stalk the hallways of the stronghold hunting the guards who were on duty.

“They were so patient with me. Day after day they allowed me to think I had caught them unawares when I leapt out from my latest hiding place. I thought I was a great hunter, and demanded of Ada that I be allowed to join the warrior corps. You can imagine how chagrinned I was when I was told I had to be at least 300 years of age before I could begin training.” I rub a hand over the beautiful yew bow that my father crafted for me; it was made with love and gifted with the same emotion as well. I will make sure it has a place of honor alongside my Lorien bow for it deserves no less.

My eyes mist up a little as I put it to one side and open the next parcel; this contains several of my favourite story books, ones that I read again and again in my childhood. The leather is stained from where sticky fingers clutched it over the years but inside the illustrations are as bright as eve. Another flood of happy memories fill my mind of winter evenings tucked up next to Ada as we read the tales together before I went to bed, usually with a great deal of reluctance and an occasional swat to the seat of my leggings when I lingered too long.

Gimli leans over to admire the artwork with me.

“Perhaps we should start our reading sessions with these much loved tales.” He suggests, “I may be familiar with some of the stories but I would like to hear them from the point of view of the elves.”

“Truly?”

How does Gimli always know what will make me happy?

As ever he seems to know what I am thinking for he chuckles softly. “It comes with being a parent, or at least a foster parent in my case. And why should we not start with your favorite stories? We can start tomorrow night if ye wish.”

“I will look forward to it.” I answer allowing Gimli to put the books on the table next to him before lifting out the next package. This one makes me draw in a sharp breath for it is a deep green silk shawl that belonged to my naneths. I carried it with me for nearly three years after her death, and even once I was persuaded not to drag it around after me wherever I went it was used on my bed as an extra cover so that I would have something of hers close to me as I slept.

“It is beautifully made lad,” Gimli runs his hand over the embroidery which is made up of autumn fruits and leaves.

“It is, and I know just where this is going to go.”

“On your bed I suspect.”

I realize as he says it that Gimli must already know the history of this shawl and no doubt the other things Ada has included as well so I merely nod and Gimli prompts me to take out the final package.

“I think there is something else in there that belonged to your Naneth, for I was with your father when he packed the last few items and handed me the key. He seemed to think you would find his choice of the last memento amusing. I’m not sure why.”

I fold the shawl carefully, and lift out the final parcel I know what it is before I even unwrap it: my nana’s mithril hairbrush.  
I glare at it making Gimli chuckle.

“It canna do you any harm presently laddie. It’s just a hair brush and your father is far too far away to wield it as he once did.”

I give a snort, “You however are not.”

“Nay, that I would not, for it is not for me to use such a beautiful thing for such a purpose as your Ada used to put it to. Ye are safe enough Lamb I promise ye. Enjoy it here for what it is something tangible of your mothers to remind you she will return to you as well someday.”

I turn and hug my friend, “I will Gimli and thank you.”

I peer into the trunk and see there is just one large inlaid box and the parchment attached announces it is for the use of both of us and that the senders hope it will afford us many hours of enjoyment. I lift it out it is heavy and I place it on Gimli’s knee and kneel next to him urging him to open it.  
Of course he insists on admiring the beautiful carvings on the lid and the elegant metalwork, which he tells me he is sure is of dwarven make.

I know he is deliberately dawdling, but if I make any sort of plea for him to hurry he will make me wait even longer so I offer him only a heartfelt sigh and a silent wide-eyed plea for clemency. Eventually just when I think I will have to beg, Gimli opens the lid and we find a very cleverly hinged board, and two smaller long boxes that are decorated with different runes and sigils of Middle Earth.

“It must be a Battle set,” I exclaim, for both Adar and Mam know how we like to play this particular game of strategy.

“So it would seem Lamb. See here on the board itself we have the whole map of Arda. The Lonely Mountains, Fangorn, Ithilien, Eryn Lasgalen.”

“Gondor, Rohan, Aglarond, The Shire,” I join in the listing of all the places we knew so well. “It is truly beautiful.” I let my fingers trace the outline of the forests of my home, then run a finger down the Anduin River to Gondor and Ithilien.

“Well I can see why they thought I would enjoy this,” Gimli pipes up no doubt sensing I am getting maudlin, “But you have never been a very good player …” He lets the words hang as I immediately answer, “I have beaten you often enough.”

“Hah! Only when I let you.”

We both laugh then, and as we admire the board and wonder where best we should place it. While Gimli is still looking around I remember the small table that Erestor pointed out to me oh so carefully when he delivered the furnishings. He had told me he thought it would prove useful and now I see that it must have been made especially for this Battle Board for the edges of the table itself were etched with the sigils of all our homes.

I get to my feet and with a short apology to my friend I hurry from the room.  
Gimli is about to demand to know what has got into me when he sees me carrying the table. “I always said he was a wily bird” he says as we position the table between us and place the board on it. Needless to say it fits perfectly; there is even space underneath for the piece boxes.

“Well we may as well set the pieces out,” Gimli tells me handing over what appears to be my set for it has the nine ivy leaves picked out on the top.  
We both open the box lids at the same time and no doubt both have the same stunned expressions on our faces as we see the Battle pieces we have been presented with. If we thought the board beautiful then these are exquisite and totally unique.

Each piece is a stunningly crafted representation of someone we knew and loved. My pieces are all elves and Gimli’s are all of mortal kind.  
Adar is there in his armour carrying Oropher’s sword, Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel, Elladan and Elrohir, Glorfindel, Lord Celeborn, Brethilas, even the smaller pieces are all of individual, with elves from Ithilien, Greenwood and Imladris there. I am so overwhelmed I can hardly breathe. “Oh Gimli!”

“Oh indeed lad, I can hardly believe my eyes. Look here, Mam, Gloin, Eomer, Faramir and Eowyn, Greirr, Aragorn and Eldarion, and Sam, Merry and Pippin and my folk from Aglarond as well.”

I admire all of the detailing and point out to my friend the fact that Mam is wearing her bonding bracelet and the elven one as well as carrying the Great Battle Axe I rescued all those years before.

I can see now why Adar said this was to be opened last for it encompasses all of our friends and all of the gifts they have sent us as well I am all but speechless.

“It is magnificent.” I manage although my voice is husky with emotion.

“I’ve never seen it’s like,” I see Gimli is similarly affected by the gift for his dark eyes are filled with tears and when I place my hand on his knee he takes it in his own and squeezes it hard. “Eh, lad such workmanship, such care, such love. We are blessed indeed. How I wish we could let everyone know how much we appreciate their efforts and that we are safe and well here in our new home.”

“I am sure they know,” I echo my earlier words of reassurance but this time even as I say them I feel a certainty in my mind, that those who loved us so well do know … whether they are still back in Arda or have already traveled beyond the circles of the world.  
It is as if Olórin is speaking in my ear and assuring me that this is the case and when I look at Gimli I see he has heard the reassurance as well.

“Gimli?”

“Aye Lamb, I heard it too. It seems we are blessed here as well as back on Arda with good friends. I admit to have been worrying whether our friends and family would know that we were safe so to know that wherever they are they do is a weight off my mind. I think this most wonderful gift and even more important the gift of knowing that all who contributed to our lives also know we are safe and well is beyond price and calls for a toast to absent friends, wherever they may be. Tis a pity the beer isn’a ready but I suppose the ale will do.”

I hurry to fill his tankard and my own goblet and we each of us send our love and thanks to those who have gone before us and those that are still to follow our path either over the sea or through the veil and the wonderful memories they have so generously gifted us with here in our new home.  
Memories from our old home to enhance our new one we could not ask for more than that.

The End


End file.
